Magicke Moste Potente
by eRenae
Summary: Harry Potter was born with skin as pale as moonlight, hair as black as night, and eyes as green as the killing curse - but that is not all. With intellect as sharp as a blade, and magic most potent, he sets out to change how magic is perceived by all. And if you stand in his way, may Merlin and Morgana have mercy on your soul - because Harry sure as Hades won't. [Slash] [TMR/HP]
1. Hadrian Denati

**Magicke Moste Potente**

Hadrian Denati

* * *

Minerva McGonagall, esteemed Hogwarts Transfiguration Mistress, refused the urge to swallow as she stared at the large, looming iron wrought gate in front of her. Beside her, Albus Dumbledore chuckled and Minerva had to restrain herself from choking the man.

"It seems we had nothing to worry about, after all, Minerva. Young Harry has been in rather… generous hands since he was adopted."

Minerva, her patience nearly past its breaking point, clutched her wand tighter and congratulated herself on her self control when her voice didn't even shake with rage when she spoke, "You lost track of him, Albus. For a decade, give or take a few months, you had no idea where the Boy-Who-Lived _was_."

Albus Dumbledore, considered the greatest wizard alive today, lost the damnable twinkle in his light blue eyes – as it very well should! – at her stinging reminder.

The truth hurts, after all.

Nearly ten years ago, Albus Dumbledore had left young Harry James Potter, a very _special_ baby, at the doorstep of his Aunt's house. He went back to the castle, quite tired after the eventful night, and went to sleep, expecting the blood wards he had put up at Petunia Dursley's house to hold. When the wards failed to come to life at 10 AM in the morning, Dumbledore had quickly gone to check – only to find that the Dursley couple had not, in fact, seen the baby at all, but had been informed by a rather irate passing policeman that he had taken the child to Social Services.

Dumbledore had, predictably, panicked.

The letter he had left in the basket was charmed so that only Petunia Dursley – or anyone who shared her blood – would be able to read the letter, explaining everything that had happened that fateful night of Samhain.

The policeman, who only saw a nameless infant on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive, would not have been able to read it, much less see it, so he had left the nameless baby in Social Services, where young Harry had been lost to them.

It was only years later, now that the old Magicke of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry crafted the necessary letters to each student, that they knew for certain that Harry Potter was alive and well.

And, apparently, living it up in the high life.

The wrought iron gates the two Hogwarts Professors were standing in front of loomed menacingly. Beyond that, Minerva could see sprawling grounds, a long driveway, and finally, like a miniature plaything in the distance, stood the mansion that Harry Potter lived.

"Well," Dumbledore said, clearing his throat, "Why don't we let them know we are here, then?"

Minerva glanced at the _two_ envelopes clutched in her hand, "It certainly came as a shock that young Harry would not only be adopted by a very rich muggle, but that this muggle has a muggleborn son as well. What are the odds, Headmaster, that such a thing was to happen?"

Dumbledore's eyes _twinkled madly_, "Why, such low odds indeed."

Minerva sighed and pressed the button on the wall next to the large gate, and the small contraption came to life. A red dot blinked at her, while a severe voice intoned, "No solicitations."

Unused to speaking to a muggle machine, Minerva cleared her throat before she spoke, "Good day. I am Minerva McGonagall and with me is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. We are here to speak to the young masters of the house about the school they have been accepted into. We have forwarded, through courier mail, the meeting we would like to have with their… erm… Father. Today is the date he replied we should come."

The device was silent, and Minerva glanced uncertainly at Albus before the same voice from before spoke, "Yes. An Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is expected to arrive at 3:00. We will send a car immediately. Please wait at the gate."

A few minutes later, a sleek limousine arrived behind the gate. It honked once, and the wrought iron gates opened by themselves.

Minerva followed Dumbledore's lead as the chauffer opened the back door of the limo.

Uncertain and apprehensive, Minerva was silent and unmoving though she could not help but admire the grounds they passed through. Pristine gardens and luxurious fountains littered the grounds. When they reached the mansion, Minerva had to restrain the awe in her eyes as she looked up at the large mansion in front of her. Briefly, she saw the face of a young, 11-year-old boy with strong Italian features in one of the many windows, before the curtain swung close, blocking her view.

The double doors opened and out walked a butler.

"Madam, Sir, this way if you please. The Master is awaiting you in the seating room."

Minerva followed the butler and looked around her. The foyer was large and the ceiling was high, a grand staircase lead to the second floor in front of her and two open archways on either side of the room lead to the other rooms on the ground floor. The butler urged them to follow him to the right.

The hallway was littered with paintings of Italian men of various ages. At the end of the hallway, however, she saw the painting of two young boys and couldn't help but stop in her tracks.

One of the boys was the very same boy that she saw in the window – he had dark chestnut hair that gleamed golden in the sunlight, and strong Italian features. His eyes were blue, and he was smiling widely at the most beautiful boy she had ever laid eyes on.

His skin was as pale as moonlight, his hair as dark as night, and his eyes were the color of the Death Curse.

Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the butler cleared his throat.

"This way, if you please, Madam."

Minerva glanced once more at the painting and followed the man to a large seating room. The low table was already set with a very ornate-looking tea and confectionary set. Seated in a large arm chair was the man that had adopted Harry Potter and had a muggleborn son, Adalberto Denati.

He rose when he saw them, and didn't even blink at Aldus Dumbledore's long beard and tailored suit. Even when dressed to blend in with the muggles, Albus still stood out.

"Greetings, and welcome to my humble abode, Signore Dumbledore," Adalberto Denati shook Dumbledore's hands enthusiastically. He glanced at Minerva, "And you of course, Signora."

Minerva nodded, all business as she sat down with the rest.

"I'm sure you're wondering what this is all about, Signore Denati," began Dumbledore.

"Si, si. I admit, I was very – what is the word? – curious, when the letter came. I know my boys are _prodigioso_, my little Hadrian especially, but to be accepted into a school that we didn't even apply for was very shocking. The letter also said… My little Hadrian has been written down since birth," at this, Adalberto's eyes glanced suspiciously at them, "And that my little Caius was accepted not long after."

So they had named Harry Hadrian. It was curious to note that Adalberto also considered the Boy-Who-Lived prodigious.

Minerva saw Dumbledore wave his hand from the corner of her eye and she knew that the conversation was now private. She could feel the magic thrumming around them, creating a barrier of sound from anyone who wished to hear their conversation.

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Denati," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling merrily.

"Mr. Denati," Minerva said, "Do not take offense with what I am about to say, you will know soon enough why I said it, but have you ever noticed something… strange… about either of your boys?"

Adalberto blinked his watery blue eyes and pursed his lips, but not before he set his tea down on the table. He repositioned himself in his chair and looked at Minerva in the eye when he said, "I do not know anything about which you speak."

"Mr. Denati – "

"It was a mistake to let you into my home," the man began, rising from his seat, "You are just like those _figlio di puttana_ who accuse my Hadrian of being – of being – "

"Harry is a wizard."

And just like that, Adalberto Denati sat back in his chair. There was caution in his eyes, but there was also something else.

"Harry? My Hadrian? A wizard. I am not familiar with this English word," the man said, his heavily accented English slowing down as he repeated the word 'wizard'.

"Yes, Hadrian," Minerva continued, "Hadrian and your son Caius. They are both wizards, able to perform magic. It is in their blood, Mr. Denati."

Just to prove her point, Minerva whipped out her wand and pointed it at her downturned teacup. It turned into a mouse. Turning it back into a teacup, Minerva caught sight of the two wizards' father's expression.

Adalberto Denati looked shocked and incredulous, but also enlightened, like a puzzle he had been solving for years had finally been solved.

He just stared, wide-eyed at the unmoving teacup for several long moments. Minerva chanced a glance at Albus, but saw that his eyes were twinkling like mad again. She thought it best not to know what he was thinking about.

He whispered, "Wizards. Magic. My boys."

"Yes," Minerva continued, her no-nonsense attitude helping convince the man that what she was telling him was the truth.

"That… It explains everything," there was a relief in the man's voice that was easy to identify despite his heavy Italian accent.

"Was there some incident in the past, perhaps?" Albus said, waving his hand. The steaming ornate tea kettle floated off the table, his teacup upturned itself, and the tea kettle poured Albus some tea. Cream and three cubes of sugar floated into the teacup, the little spoon mixing it all without Albus having to lift a finger.

Minerva resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Albus was purposely showing off. Wandless magic, no matter how effortless Albus made it look, was no easy feat.

Adalberto watched this all with his watery blue eyes about to pop out of his skull.

After blinking several times, Adalberto was finally able to gather his wits about himself, "Well," he began uncertainly, blue eyes distant, "It… Wizards. _Ammazza! _I admit, there have been… plenty times where things happened around young Hadrian. _Unexplainable_ things."

Eyes _still_ twinkling, Dumbledore made a motion like he was grabbing a pastry from the confectionary set. It floated towards him instead. Adalberto followed the movement with his eyes.

"_Si_. I'd been warned about my Hadrian when I first wanted to adopt him." Fire burned in Adalberto's eyes when he said this, "The person in charge of the orphanage had the – the – the _nerve_ to call my Hadrian the Devil's child. But my Caius, he had been… The word is in love? No, no… Enamored, yes, with little Hadrian."

Adalberto took his cooling cup of tea and raised it to his lips, taking a sip, he continued, "Caius had always been… disconnected with the world. I blame his mama. Still, when he met Hadrian for the first time in that charity event, it was like he had life again. So I adopted young Hadrian. They were both only six years old at that time.

But when Hadrian turned seven… That was when things started to become strange."

Minerva absentmindedly nodded. Seven was when the child's magic would start to manifest itself. Accidental magic was expected of every child when they turned seven.

"I had bought him a collector's train set for his birthday. It was expensive but… it wasn't supposed to move… on its own… I had caught the boys playing with it. Caius simply thought it was one of those newer trains that had batteries… I knew differently. It was the first of many such incidents."

"I see," Dumbledore said, "And Caius?"

"I had never noticed anything strange," Adalberto said, "Except… I had always thought everything had been my little Hadrian's doing. But you say Caius is also a wizard?"

"Yes," Minerva assured him, "Caius is what we call muggleborn, meaning his parents are muggles, or non-magical humans."

"Muggleborn… But my little Hadrian is not one? Only Caius? You mean Hadrian's mama and papa are also wizards?"

"Hadrian's mother, Lily Potter, was a witch; and his father, James Potter, was a wizard."

Adalberto looked surprised, "You know my little Hadrian's parents?"

"Knew," corrected Dumbledore sadly, "They were wonderful people, and they died too young."

They were silent for a while. Albus and Minerva were sitting patiently for Adalberto to process what he had learned.

"So… My little Hadrian's name is Potter. It matters not, he is Denati now."

Minerva looked at Albus, apprehensive.

"Hadrian's real name is Harry James Potter, and in our world, he will be known as such."

Adalberto looked outraged, "Hadrian is Hadrian Perseus Denati now, and he always will be. Where were you wizards when he was mistreated at the orphanage? No. Your world forsook him! It is for his best interests that he keep the name I have given him."

"Mr. Denati," began Dumbledore, "While it is true that the Wizarding world has its shortcomings regarding young Harry, it is still a fact that Harry did come from that world – he has a right to know the world of which he came from, as it is his right to choose if he will stay in that world or not. He has a heritage. His family, the Potters, had a long and rich history that is highly respected in our world."

Minerva could see the doubt beginning to form in the patriarch's eyes, and she could tell that he was being swayed by Dumbledore's convincing argument. She knew that Italians valued family above all else.

"Plus," Dumbledore said, "The Potters were a rather wealthy pureblooded family – they own estates and have a large account in the Wizarding bank that all belong to Harry now as the sole Potter Heir. Harry will not be able to claim it if he rejects his family name."

Adalberto looked resigned, "I see."

Dumbledore tried to reassure him, "However, in the muggle world, he will still be known as Hadrian Perseus Denati, nothing can change the fact that you are now his legal guardian."

The Denati patriarch looked cheered up by this, "I see!" he repeated, "That is indeed good to hear."

"Now, on to business," Minerva said. She handed the two letters she had been holding to Adalberto, who took them and regarded them curiously.

"Those letters are for Mr. Potter and Mr. Denati. I will now explain to you some small aspects of the school," clearing her throat, Minerva continued, "As you now know, Hogwarts is a school for young Witches and Wizards. It is a boarding school, Mr. Denati – which means that your young boys will be gone for nine months out of the year. School starts at September and lets out at the last week of May."

Adalberto looked downright pained, "Gone for that long? Why, I cannot bear it! My boys are my life! And both of them at the same time… it will break me, Signora!"

Minerva smiled compassionately, "Do not be too worried, Mr. Denati. There will be Christmas Break and Summer Holidays, and you will be allowed to write to the boys as often as you wish through owl."

Adalberto sighed, "I was hoping to see them grow up with my very own eyes…"

"Do not be too upset over it, Sir," Dumbledore said empathically, "Hogwarts, unlike muggle schools, only lasts for seven years before the students are to graduate at seventeen or eighteen. Your children will still be children in the eyes of the muggles, despite being considered adults in the Wizarding world."

"I see…" the aging man said, slightly cheered but still visibly upset.

Minerva continued, "Hogwarts teaches seven compulsory subjects during the first year, and these are: Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Astronomy and the last one, Flying, will only be taught for five months before the slot is turned into Independent Study."

With every subject mentioned, Adalberto's eyes would widen further and further, his eyebrows rising in incredulity over every subject named.

"F-Flying?" sputtered Adalberto, "Transfiguration? Potions?"

"Quite," agreed Dumbledore, smiling amusedly at the gob-smacked man.

Minerva prattled on, "During their Third Year, students are required to take a minimum of two electives from five majors: Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Divination, Muggle Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures. There are also several extra-curricular subjects to be taught during the weekends (which are offered five months into the school year for first year students), which are: Art, Muggle Art, Music, Muggle Music, Ancient Studies, Earth Magic, Ghoul Studies, Magical Theory and Xylomancy."

Adalberto looked to be at the edge of his seat now, looking quite overwhelmed with all the knowledge being presented.

"During the Fifth Year, students have an examination called the Ordinary Wizarding Level exams to asses if they have the capacity to be able to continue to take the higher level studies. After Fifth Year, if the student is of age, Apparition is a compulsory subject. And lastly, another subject will be offered if there is a sufficient demand: Alchemy."

Adalberto's eyes looked like they would pop out of his eyes any moment now, "Alchemy! Surely, you jest, Madam!"

"I do not," Minerva said, glancing at Albus, "Professor Dumbledore here is quite adept at it."

"You can turn any metal into gold?!" asked the patriarch incredulously.

"Among other things," Dumbledore replied breezily, eyes twinkling merrily, "The art of turning any metal into gold is _highly_ regulated, however. We wouldn't want to anger the Goblins."

"G-goblins," whispered Adalberto in shock.

"If there are any more questions," said Minerva long-sufferingly (Albus was having too much fun with this), "Please refer to this pamphlet of the school."

Albus took out a rather thick-looking pamphlet and handed it to Adalberto. Unfurling the thick parchment, Adalberto gaped, "The pictures! They move!"

Minerva smiled indulgently.

Albus' eyes twinkled.

"If it isn't too much a bother, Mr. Denati-"

"Adalberto, please Signora!"

"Yes. Erm, Adalberto, would it be quite all right to meet both boys now?"

Adalberto had to tear his eyes away from the pamphlet, where Minerva saw the Hogwarts castle on proud display. The patriarch nodded eagerly, "Of course! Of course! Kennex!"

When the butler did not immediately appear, Dumbledore waved his hand lazily and Minerva could feel the magic disappear around her. People would now be able to hear them again.

"Kennex!" Adalberto called again, his eyes glued to the pamphlet once more. The butler arrived, his footsteps swift.

"Yes, sir?"

The patriarch mumbled instructions to the butler in Italian, his eyes never leaving the pamphlet. The butler nodded and strode out of the room.

Minutes later, two pairs of footsteps arrived in the seating room.

Minerva turned her head and barely contained her gasp.

Skin paler than moonlight, hair as black as night, and green eyes the color of the death curse. He looked exactly like the little boy she had seen on the painting.

Only that his presence seemed ten times more captivating than a mere portrait could show.

There was no doubt about it, Harry James Potter, or Hadrian Perseus Denati, was a sight to behold.

"You called us, Papa?" asked the child to Harry's right. He was the other boy Minerva had seen on the painting. His wavy chestnut hair was combed perfectly, and his blue eyes were alight with curiosity. He was holding Harry's hand in one of his own.

Minerva smiled upon seeing the two of them. Harry Potter and Caius Denati were both beautiful children.

"Yes, my sons," Adalberto said, smiling warmly at the children, "Have a seat, the both of you, and we will explain."

Caius pulled Harry lightly towards an adjacent couch and sat. Harry followed quietly, looking indifferently at the curious-looking adults seated opposite their father.

"My sons," began Adalberto (who had folded the pamphlet to keep it out of view), "I have wonderful, wonderful news for the both of you."

"News?" asked Harry.

It was quietly spoken, yet Minerva could hear the power behind it. Staring, transfixed, at the Boy-Who-Lived, she could not help but imagine him speaking that quietly in front of thousands and still be heard.

Albus waved his hand, and Minerva once again felt protective magic surround them.

And then Harry Potter was on his feet in an instant, his emerald eyes wide with turbulent emotions. Minerva stared at him. He could not have felt the magic being used, could he? It was impossible! The child was not even eleven years old!

"You're the same as me," Harry breathed.

Albus smiled, "Yes, my dear boy. You and your brother are Wizards. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and we are here to tell you about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

There was a moment of pin-drop silence, before:

Caius tackled Harry into a tight hug, "I _knew_ it! I _knew _it, Hadrian!" tears suddenly ran down Caius' face, his smile shaking as he whispered over and over again, "We aren't freaks, we aren't freaks, we aren't freaks."

Adalberto rushed to hug his sons, his face pained, "Oh, my sons! Both of you are so, so special!"

Harry looked shocked, unmoving as he stood in the middle of the bear hug. His eyes looked widely at the Headmaster and at the Deputy Headmistress.

"Tell me. Tell me more."

And they did.

* * *

More pamphlets were handed over to Adalberto. Most of them had funny titles like 'So Your Kid's Magic? Shocker!' or 'Don't Panic! It's Accidental Magic!', and some of them were completely serious like, 'The Magical Community: Kept Thriving by the Statute of Secrecy'.

It was nearly 6 o'clock when the two Hogwarts Professors were finally able to leave. Adalberto rose from his seat, "Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, thank you so much for your time. My boys will certainly be on that train station come September 1st."

Albus smiled jovially, "Splendid! Splendid! I'm sure Minerva is looking forward to teaching the boys if their talents are to be believed."

Adalberto puffed with pride, "My boys are _prodigioso_! I'm sure they will be a delight to teach."

"Papa!" Caius exclaimed, "We will go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, yes? To buy our supplies?"

"_Si, si_," Adalberto said reassuringly, smiling indulgently at his two boys, "And I will make sure we go there early, so that Hadrian can get as many books as he wants!"

"Yes!"

Minerva, once again drawn to the Potter Heir, slid her eyes over to him. He was smiling softly, and there was a sparkle in his emerald green eyes.

"We had best take our leave, then," Dumbledore said, standing from his seat and taking out his ridiculous pocket watch.

"Oh! But can you show us just _once more_, please Professor McGonagall?" begged Caius.

Minerva clucked her tongue severly, "Just once more, Mr. Denati, and then we will take our leave."

"Wicked!"

Adalberto smiled indulgently as Minerva pointed her wand at the teacup. It turned into a mouse.

"Woah!" Caius predictably exclaimed. Minerva had been demonstrating that simple technique for several times, and the young Denati Heir's reaction had been the same. She smiled and said, "If you work hard and study well, you will be able to accomplish the very same thing by the end of your First Year in Hogwarts."

"Did you hear that Hadrian?! WICKED!"

Albus cleared his throat, "Quite," he said, smiling cheerfully at the family, "But as it is getting late, Messrs. Denati, we would like to take our leave now."

"Of course! Of course!" exclaimed the patriarch, "I will send for the car immediately. Where would you like to be dropped off?"

"There is no need," said Minerva, "We have our own means of travel. Albus?"

"Yes, I have it," Dumbledore said, taking out a sock from his coat pocket. Minerva looked resigned. Adalberto looked confused.

"Oh, very well then," she grumbled, taking hold of it.

"Once again, it was very nice to meet you, Messrs. Denati," Albus said, addressing the two young boys going over the pamphlets obsessively, "We shall see you on the 1st of September."

"_Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans."_

Then they were gone.

Adalberto gaped. Caius looked around him, wide-eyed.

Hadrian Denati, or Harry Potter, smirked, his devilish expression unseen.

So.

Things have gotten _very _interesting.

* * *

A/N: WELCOME to _Magicke Moste Potente_! I am eRenae, your humble FanFiction writer.

WARNINGS: This story will contain Shounen-Ai, or SLASH, or relationships between two boys, so you if that's not your cup of tea, then kindly close the tab or press the back button.

It will also feature a predominantly amoral Harry Potter, who will steadily have radical ideas as he grows.

Also, he is a bit of a Gary Stu. There. I said it.

Anyway.

I'm looking for a Beta Reader, or someone just to bounce ideas around, basically. So, if you're interested, kindly send me a PM – or just review.

PLEASE REVIEW! Constructive criticism most welcome!


	2. Diagon Alley

**Magicke Moste Potente**

Diagon Alley

* * *

Blaise Zabini fidgeted in impatience.

He was waiting – not so patiently – for his mother at the foyer of their manor so that she could take him to Diagon Alley. Today was the day they were to get supplies for Hogwarts.

Understandably, Blaise was very excited.

A few more minutes of mind-numbing boredom later, Blaise finally heard his mother descend the stairs.

"Mother," he called. His voice, though quiet, carried through the foyer and up the stairs. Sirena Zabini smiled indulgently at her son when she reached him.

"Blaise," she said, her voice filled with affection, "I see you are ready to go."

"I was ready for quite some time. You did say we could go at 9."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" his mother asked breezily.

After a few more moments of his mother smiling down at him, Blaise impatiently asked, "Can we go now?"

"It seems just like yesterday, my son," his mother said in remembrance, "That you were 7 and had your first accidental bout of magic. Why! I still remember so fondly how you hung Vittorico from the ceiling."

Blaise scowled.

"And now, you're off to Hogwarts! Ohhh," his mother said, dramatically placing her hand next to his cheek, "Who's going to help me hide the bodies now?"

"I'm sure you'll manage, Mother," Blaise said exasperatedly, secretly glad that he wouldn't have to do that anymore.

His mother, Sirena Zabini, was known as the Black Widow. In order to gain wealth, she married into rich families and killed her husbands off afterwards. Hiding his Step-Fathers' often butchered bodies were no fun at all.

"Yes, yes," his mother said, sighing, "But it won't be half as fun without you."

Blaise sighed.

"Well," Sirena Zabini said, letting go of Blaise' cheek, "We'd best get going now."

They walked towards the large fireplace that could fit five people. Sirena gestured that Blaise should go first. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, he entered the fireplace and said clearly, "Diagon Alley."

He was gone in a puff of smoke.

When Blaise next opened his eyes, he was at the Leaky Cauldron.

The famous pub was just as he remembered it – charming in a dark, dinky, and musty kind of way. There were few people in the pub this early in the morning. There was a shadowy character sitting in front of the bar, a pair of witches reading their own copies of 'The Daily Prophet', and finally, a group of three muggle-dressed people standing near the entrance.

Blaise watched them with interest. Two of them were boys his age, and the third was definitely a muggle.

He sneered and felt his mother appear behind him in the fireplace.

He moved out of the way, followed by his mother, and couldn't help overhear the conversation the muggle had with the two boys.

"Now, remember my sons," the distinguished muggle man said in heavily accented English. He was addressing the two young boys, one with chestnut hair and slightly resembled the muggle man, another whose profile he could not clearly see as it was hidden behind the other boy.

He watched in interest as the muggle man continued, "We must be cautious, for we do not know their ways and customs."

"Interesting. It seems as if we have two mudbloods and a muggle in our midst… And not just any muggle…" his mother spoke, and Blaise looked up to see that his beautiful mother was also looking at the muggle man and his two young boys, "A muggle who has _manners_."

The muggle man continued, "We also do not know their history, or their teachings, so be tolerant of everything, and have an open mind – but do not forget! You are Denati! So carry that name with honor and pride."

The name Denati was unfamiliar – and also muggle – yet Blaise could tell it was Italian. He felt his mother move, and Blaise looked up once again to see a cunning smile on her lips. He shivered.

"Come, Blaise, my darling," his mother said, "I have found some entertainment."

Blaise' heart thundered in his chest – the last time his mother said that, the only thing that remained of the poor soul that garnered her interest was his detached _bits_.

Sirena Zabini glided towards the muggle man and his two boys. Blaise took a moment to look around in panic, but the patrons of the pub were all busy with their own business. He took a deep breath and followed his mother – but not before sending a small prayer to Morgana for mercy.

"Merry meet, good Sir," his mother said, her voice like chimes in the wind as she addressed the muggle man.

The muggle man turned to his mother and glanced uncertainly at his two boys, who had also turned at the sound of his mother's voice. Blaise saw the other boy with the chestnut-haired lad for the first time and couldn't help but gape.

He was… beautiful.

Blaise had grown up around beauty, had been raised to discern what was beautiful and what was not, and he could say with utmost surety that this boy was the most beautiful human he had ever seen.

His hair was black, messy, and fell in uncontrolled chaos around his face, his face was small and elfin, his nose straight and aristocratic, his jaw line soft yet boyish, his lips full and pale pink, his skin pale as a china doll's, and his eyes…

Blaise swallowed.

His eyes were greener than emeralds at their brightest sheen.

His mother's voice brought him out of his stupor, "My! What beautiful children – are they yours, good sir?"

The muggle smiled tentatively at his mother. He placed a heavy hand on the chestnut-haired boy. Now that he was closer, Blaise could see that his eyes were blue. He resembled the Italian man in his nose and in the stubborn set of his jaw, but that was all.

"This is my son, Caius, Signora," he placed another hand on the green-eyed beauty, "And this is Hadrian, my son in everything but blood."

"I see," his mother said, "They are indeed, beautiful."

Blaise had to fight himself to tear his eyes off the boy.

"Where are my manners?" said the muggle man, "I am Adalberto Denati, may I inquire of yours, Signora?"

"I am Sirena Zabini, and this is my son, Blaise Zabini," his mother said with a smile.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Signora," the muggle man said, smilingly, "And your charming son, Blaise, of course. Say hello, my sons,"

Caius, the boy with the chestnut-colored hair, smiled unguardedly at him, "Hello! I'm Caius."

"I am Hadrian, it's nice to meet you," the beautiful boy said. Blaise couldn't help himself – he shivered. His voice resembled his physical beauty – captivating and awe-inspiring. There was power behind that voice.

Blaise tore his eyes away from Hadrian to glance at his mother to see that she was also staring at the devastatingly beautiful boy. She had a calculating gleam in her eye, but also something else.

It was awe.

"You are very beautiful, Hadrian," his mother commented bluntly.

Hadrian didn't even bat and eyelash, "As are you, Madam."

Sirena laughed, "And charming too, I see."

This was no mere mudblood, Blaise thought. Not with his pureblood aristocratic features, and not with the power that Blaise felt when he spoke. No. This boy was something else entirely.

"You are muggleborn, Hadrian?" asked his mother, smiling disarmingly at him.

"No, Madam," he answered honestly, "I was told that both my parents were wizards."

He could tell that his mother was outraged by the way her hands gripped her wand tighter, "Yet… you grew up with Mr. Denati, who is a muggle?"

"I was left in an orphanage when I was very young, and Papa adopted me."

Blaise nearly bristled.

A magical child in the hands of muggles?

His mother, apparently, felt the same, "How deplorable! Leaving a magical child in the hands of those who could not care properly for you! Why, it's outrageous! No offense meant, of course, good sir, but a magical child has needs that muggles just cannot provide," his mother added, speaking to Adalberto.

"Although I am glad I met my Hadrian, his suffering at the hands of those at the orphanage was terrible," agreed Adalberto. He placed a heavy hand on Hadrian's shoulder, "It would have been a great comfort that Hadrian not be harmed when he was younger had he lived with his own kind."

"Indeed," Sirena agreed, "Every magical child is treated with the utmost love and care here in the Wizarding world. It is precious, you see – magic."

Blaise watched Hadrian carefully, and saw that there was a spark of interest in his eyes. It made them all the more alluring.

"It is a touching sentiment, Papa," the green-eyed boy said, smiling slightly at his adoptive muggle father (Blaise swallowed unconsciously, wondering what a full-blown smile would look like on _that_ face), "But I would not wish for any other fate if it would not have led me to you or Caius."

Caius hugged Hadrian and nuzzled his cheek, "Me too."

Adalberto beamed with affection at his son, "I'm so happy to hear that, my son."

Turning to the Zabinis, Adalberto flashed them a smile, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Signora Zabini, and Signore Blaise, of course, but I am sure that you and your son have errands to run – as do we. If you'll excuse us…"

"Nonsense!" gushed the Black Widow, "It is your first time in Diagon Alley, correct? I must insist that we accompany you."

Adalberto looked unsure, "That is, indeed, a very generous offer. Are you sure it is no trouble?"

"It would be our pleasure," said his mother, smiling at the Denati family. Blaise could tell that this smile was not like her predatory ones – it was more open and friendly. He nearly gaped at her. What had caused her to become so interested in this small family?

"Thank you," said Adalberto, "It is very kind of you."

"It is no problem at all. Now, come," Blaise' mother said, gliding towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, "We are burning daylight."

Blaise followed his mother after one more glance at the green-eyed boy. The Denati family also followed. When they reached the back of the pub, Sirena whipped out her wand and tapped the wall just so.

The bricks moved aside, much to Adalberto's astonishment and the two boys' awe. It opened to reveal Diagon Alley.

Blaise looked at the winding street lined with small shops. He knew that, small as they appeared on the outside, the shops were actually larger on the inside.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Sirena said, looking much too amused at the Denati family's expressions. "Now, would it be my correct assumption that your first order of business would be Gringott's, the Goblin Bank?"

"Yes, indeed," Adalberto said after shaking himself out of his stupor.

"Follow me, then," Sirena said, walking towards the large, white, and imposing-looking building made of granite at the end of the Alley.

"The shops are very tiny," commented Adalberto as they passed by each shop, "Look, my sons! Is that a broom on display? Oh! And we have found a bookshop for you, Hadrian."

Sirena, amused, commented, "They may appear small on the outside, but they are larger on the inside."

"Indeed?" asked Adalberto. His endless shock and amazement was making Blaise smile. Caius also looked like an excited puppy –only Hadrian looked reserved and resigned at the antics of his two family members.

When they arrived at the bank, Sirena stopped them before they could enter, "Now, remember. A little etiquette, Messrs. Denati: Never lie to a goblin, bare your teeth as much as possible, and for Morgana's sake, never bow."

Adalberto looked confused, following Sirena's lead as they entered the bank. She led them to a teller and waited in line behind them. Blaise followed behind, resigned that they would be playing hosts to a muggle, a mudblood, and a half-blood at the least for the rest of their trip to Diagon Alley.

"Yes?" asked a goblin teller impatiently. He peered down his long, crooked nose imperiously at the Denati family – perhaps even disdaining the completely muggle attire the family was wearing. Adalberto merely smiled jovially at the creature, showing as much teeth as possible, "I am here to exchange currencies," said Adalberto, "And my son Hadrian has an account."

This gave Blaise pause. So the beautiful boy, Hadrian, had an account at the goblin bank? It showed wealth and prestige – not just anyone could have an account in the bank. Mostly, only the wealthiest families had accounts. Just who was the green-eyed beauty?

"Very well," the goblin said, "The current exchange rate is 24.60 Pounds to a Galleon. How much would you like to exchange?"

"100,000 Pounds," Adalberto said modestly. Blaise noticed the suitcase the older man was carrying as he handed it to the goblin. The goblin rose and accepted, with difficulty, the case Adalberto was carrying. The goblin wobbled for a few moments under the weight of the case before placing it down on the counter. Opening the case, the goblin inspected the contents before grabbing a well-used abacus.

"That will be 4065 Galleons and 40 Knuts," the goblin said indifferently.

Blaise nearly choked. Sirena's eyes widened. That… that was a _lot_ of money.

"Forgive me, Signore," Adalberto said, "But your currency is in coins, yes? It will be too bulky if we carry it all at once," he said with concern.

The goblin grabbed a small, rucksack pouch and waved his hand over it. The amount of galleons the Denati now owned became engraved into it.

The goblin sneered at Adalberto, who didn't even bat an eyelash, and said, "You only have to reach into the pouch to get the amount you wish to spend," he turned and mumbled what sounded suspiciously like, "Ignorant muggle," before turning back to the family.

"You said your son has an account?" the goblin said skeptically, "Key, please."

Hadrian reached into his pocket and procured the small golden key. He handed it over to the goblin.

"Vault 369…" the goblin seemed to choke on its spit, "You are –"

"Hadrian Denati," said the green-eyed boy. Blaise, heart pounding, recognized the tone of voice for what it was – a threat. But why would Hadrian want to keep his identity a secret?

"Of- of course, Mr. Denati! Of course," stammered the goblin. It dabbed a handkerchief at its brow and signaled for another goblin, "Griphook!"

Another goblin hobbled its way towards the teller and stood at attention. Griphook stood as tall as his 3 ft stature allowed him to and said, "You called, Teller Garble?"

"Take Mr. Denati here to visit his vault. It is Vault 369."

Interestingly enough, Griphook also seemed to wheeze as he heard the vault number. Its beady black eyes darted immediately to Hadrian, before, curiously, sliding up to his fringe, "Ce-certainly! Please follow me, Mr. Denati."

Adalberto and Caius followed at a respectful distance, but the goblin said to them, "I'm afraid only Mr. Po- Denati, or _blood_ relatives can enter his vault."

Blaise watched the altercation with interest, not at all missing the small stutter in the name. Now, which prominent wizards started with Po?

He heard his mother's breath hitch, and he turned towards her. She was staring, wide-eyed, at Hadrian. He had never seen his mother so out-of-sorts before.

"Mother," he said, "What is it?"

Sirena continued to watch Hadrian as he apologized to his family before following the goblin. She blinked her dark eyes and focused on him, "I was aware… at the back of my mind… that _he _was around your age, my darling Blaise. To think…" she trailed off, staring at the door where Hadrian Denati had disappeared behind. Then, as sudden as it appeared, her surprise vanished to be replaced by a cunning smile, "Interesting."

The goblin teller cleared its throat, "What is your business?" it asked impatiently. His mother snapped out of her rumination and bared her teeth menacingly at the goblin, who smiled back – its sharp teeth glistening in the brightness of Gringotts.

"We would like to withdraw," his mother said.

"Key, please," the goblin said, and his mother handed their key over to him. Inspecting it for a few seconds, the goblin then said, "Vault 754. Hunchback!" it yelled, and another goblin waddled over to them. This one, like its name implied, had a rather large hump on its back and stooped a little, "Take the Lady Zabini and her son to vault 754."

Hunchback nodded once and strode off without a glance in their direction. The Zabinis passed the waiting Denatis at the entrance to the underground bank. His mother smiled warmly at them, "I'm sure Hadrian will not be long," she assured, "Will you be waiting for us until we return? There is still much to learn about our world – though I doubt you will be able to learn everything in a day of shopping."

Adalberto smiled. Caius, Blaise noticed, looked rather forlorn without Hadrian.

"Thank you for your offer, Signora Zabini," the Denati patriarch said, "But we do not wish to impose."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed his mother, "Like I said, it would be our pleasure. Especially since…" she trailed off, eyes glancing at the large double doors that lead to the underground bank, "Your son Hadrian has done a lot for the Wizarding world. It would only be my pleasure to repay him in this small way."

Adalberto looked surprised, "My little Hadrian? What… What has he done?"

Sirena blinked before a positively feral smiled graced her face. It was gone moments later – it appeared for such a short while that other people would think they imagined it, but Blaise knew better. It was a predatory smile that did not bode well for the Denatis.

"My, my," she said sweetly, "You're not aware… Your son, Hadrian, _is_ Harry Potter, is he not? I'm quite sure of it. Now that I know to look for it, Hadrian does have the infamous Potter hair, and his magic also tastes familiar."

Blaise _gaped_. Hadrian was _the_ Harry Potter?

He had, of course, heard the _stories_ – of how an infant, barely a year old, had killed the Dark Lord, the most powerful Dark Wizard since Gellert Grindelwald, how the mere_ baby_ had survived the killing curse and _lived_.

Harry Potter was legend.

He was the Boy-Who-Lived.

He had lost the amount of times he had fallen asleep to story books depicting the brave, young child and how he had been hidden from the world for his own safety. Truth turned out to be stranger than fiction, Blaise thought as he recalled the breathtakingly beautiful boy with his mother's green eyes.

"My son is called Harry Potter in this world, yes," Adalberto said, breaking Blaise out of his thoughts, "But he will always be my little Hadrian. And… what is this deed my Hadrian has accomplished? We have not been told anything…"

"How… odd," his mother said, "Well, I certainly would like to fill you in on what you do not know, Mr. Denati, providing that you wait for us…?"

"_Si, si!" _said Adalberto, gesturing towards the double door, "Please go ahead, we will wait for you here."

Sirena nodded regally and glided towards the double doors, she turned to Blaise and said, "Perhaps it is best if you wait here, Blaise, while I get what we need." Blaise could identify an order when he heard one, even when it was phrased like a polite suggestion, and nodded.

Caius turned to him excitedly, "Your mama is beautiful," the chestnut-haired boy said after his mother had disappeared behind the doors, "She is so graceful, too! But she is not as beautiful or as graceful as my Hadrian! Hadrian, he is the best!" he nodded twice, as if that cemented the fact for him, and smiled brightly at Blaise.

"Caius!" exclaimed Adalberto, scandalized, "That is a rude thing to say!"

Blaise merely stared at the boy. He reminded him of an excited Crup, actually. Even the hair-color was right. All he needed were ears and a forked tail and nothing would differentiate them between the two.

"Your name is Blaise, right?" the crup asked, still grinning toothily at him, "I'm not quite sure you remembered, but I'm Caius!" the crup then looked around the bank with wide, innocent, blue eyes; staring at the goblins and leaning down to whisper, "They look really odd don't you think? The goblins?"

"Don't stare at them," Blaise said resignedly, sighing slightly at the crup's antics, "It's very rude."

"Oh!" the crup said, averting his eyes instantly, "Sorry, everything just seems so odd to me – in a wonderful way, of course! We, that is, Hadrian and I, were quite pleasantly surprised to learn that we were wizards!"

Ignoring the fact that the crup seemed to end his every sentence with exclamation points, Blaise focused on what he said and was properly scandalized, "You mean _Harry Potter_ didn't know he's a wizard until yesterday?" he asked, incredulous.

"I know!" exclaimed the crup, "Well, he's been doing magic for _ages_, but we really didn't know what it was until Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall told us yesterday."

"Harry Potter has been _doing _magic?" asked Blaise, infinitely curious, "Without a wand?" Surely the crup was talking about accidental magic – magic that only manifested itself when the child was feeling particularly strong emotions.

Caius frowned slightly at him, his jovial expression dimming slightly, "He's called Hadrian."

"Yes, yes," Blaise said impatiently, "But you say Har – _Hadrian_ has been _doing magic without a wand_?"

"Well, yes," the crup answered, as if it _wasn't_ a big deal, "He can do all sorts of cool things with it: make things float, turn the pages of his book for him – which I think is a totally uncool way of using his magic, you know?"

"Wait," Blaise said, "And you say he does this all _consciously_?"

"You make it sound unusual for a wizard to do those things," the muggle father said, butting in the children's conversation, "Caius has been saying to me all the sorts of things Hadrian can do with his magic now that I am in the know."

Harry Potter can do _all sorts of things_ with his magic. Blaise sucked in a deep breath of air and held it in his lungs before he slowly let it out.

Where to start?

"Children don't have that much control over their magic… That's why it's called _accidental magic_ – because they are just that: accidents. To have such control over magic at such an early age…"

It bodes power.

It seems Harry Potter was one to watch out for.

"It is usually a sign that the child will grow to be extremely powerful," he finished lamely, not at all content with all the swirling emotions he was feeling.

Before the crup or his muggle father could reply, however, the double doors opened to reveal a grim-looking Harry Potter. His green eyes looked dark as he nodded curtly to the goblin guiding him in thanks. He strode regally towards his waiting family, and Blaise couldn't help but hold his breath as he came near.

"Hadrian!" said the crup as he bounced towards the brooding beauty, "You're back! What's wrong? Why are you upset?" the crup asked in rapid succession.

"Nothing," replied Harry Potter testily, "I will talk to you about it later," he said, his eyes sliding over to the watching Blaise, obviously unwilling to divulge his emotions to an outsider.

Blaise, however, thought his heart would stop. It was the first time the boy with the eyes the color of the Death Curse looked at him, and it was like a lightning strike – swift and electrifying.

It was with a sudden pang that he realized he wanted those eyes on him once more.

The doors opened again to reveal his mother, and as she glided towards them Blaise realized that Harry Potter was dangerous.

For, with a mere glance he had ensnared Blaise.

He shivered and wondered what that meant for the future – when Potter's magic would undoubtedly become stronger, his control over it even more precise. If the Boy-Who-Lived was captivating at 11-years-old, he wondered what he would be like when his magic would be completely unlocked at 17-years-old.

He wondered if other people would be as ensnared as he was with the Child Savior.

"I hope you did not have to wait long," said his mother once she reached them, "We should go now that we have what we need."

"Lead the way, Signora," said Adalberto with a final concerned glance at his adopted son.

"I trust everything is in order, then, young Hadrian?" his mother asked politely.

Green eyes flashed towards his mother, and Blaise knew in that instant that his mother had come to the same conclusion as he had. She bore the weight of the realization well.

"Of a sort," answered Hadrian quietly, eyes never leaving his mother's, "Everything is as it should be, at least."

"Very well," his mother said, dark eyes unblinking. She had to tear her eyes away from Hadrian, Blaise noticed, before she addressed the family as a whole, "We should, perhaps, visit Madam Malkin's first. We can have the boys outfitted with the complete uniform. I'm sure you would also like to purchase some additional clothing for your sons as well. I doubt you have anything a wizard would wear, Messrs. Denati."

"A sound idea," said Adalberto.

His mother nodded and led the way to Madam Malkin's.

Caius the crup looked around with wide eyes, as if he was trying to look at everything at once, "I wish I had about eight eyes right now!" he said, twisting his neck as far as it would go once they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Look, Hadrian! A broom! An honest-to-goodness broom!"

Hadrian looked nonplussed, "You already know wizards and witches use brooms, Caius," he said patiently, "We have flying for the first semester, remember?"

"Papa! You will buy us brooms, will you not?" asked the crup, tugging at his father's muggle coat, "Hadrian and I would want one!"

"First years aren't allowed brooms," Hadrian interjected; a small, amused smile directed at his adoptive sibling, "Stop acting like a spoiled little brat, Caius."

Instead of being affronted, the crup beamed at the green-eyed boy, "We still have this summer to fly, though!"

Adalberto laughed, drawing attention to them due to his loud, deep, belly laugh, "I will see what I can do, my sons."

Hadrian merely sighed, seemingly used to their adoptive father spoiling them both rotten and acting as if it was a huge burden on his part.

Blaise hid his smile.

"This is it," his mother said, waving a hand at a small store that had 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' stated at the front. She pushed the door and the tingle of the bell that announced their presence echoed throughout the spacious room. Fabrics of all kinds and colors lined the walls while moving manikins paraded dress robes. The crup and his muggle father gaped unbecomingly at the moving manikins.

"It _is_ larger on the inside," commented Adalberto incredulously.

Hadrian merely looked amused.

"Welcome! What can I do for you?" asked a rather portly woman who Blaise knew to be Madam Malkin herself.

"Good morning, Madam," said his mother, "I would like the usual fare of Hogwarts robes for my son, Blaise."

Blaise stepped forward and climbed the small stool next to a large, full-sized mirror.

"Of course!" said the Madam, "In what fabric would you like them to be?"

"Well," mused his mother, "Perhaps Acromantula Silk would be too much for a first year – do you have any Demiguise Hair? Black and opaque, of course."

"Yes, we do, Lady Zabini," said the Madam, already taking Blaise' measurements.

"Then those will do. Oh. The usual charms on the robes, if you will, and make sure you make the water proof charms particularly strong."

"As you wish, Lady Zabini," said the Madam. She turned towards her other customers, sneering lightly when she saw the muggle attire. Nonetheless, she asked politely if they also wanted the usual Hogwarts fare.

"For my boys, I would like to have a wardrobe custom-made," declared Adalberto, "I am not familiar with your cloth. And your fashion," he said, glancing uncertainly at the manikin, which twirled as if sensing his eyes on it, "But I want only the best for my boys."

Madam Malkin blinked before she smiled, "Of course, good sir," she said, leading the crup and Hadrian towards Blaise. Both of them stood on top of their own stools while a magical measuring tape fussed around them.

"I would suggest 20 tops, 7 bottoms, 3 coats, 5 jackets and 7 robes – six for everyday use and one formal wear for each boy."

Blaise blinked. That was a lot of clothes for a single purchase.

"Will that be enough? They both only have – what is the term? – muggle wear with them," Adalberto said, looking unsure.

"I'm sure that will be enough for now," cut in Sirena when she saw the tell-tale mark of greed in Madam Malkin's eyes.

"Well then," said Adalberto, "How much would that be? Including the Hogwarts robes, of course."

"150 Galleons in total, providing that I use the best fabrics I have, Mister…"

"Denati," answered Adalberto. He pulled out the rucksack pouch the goblin teller had given him and pulled out the exact amount after several tries.

"They will be ready in a few hours," said Madam Malkin, bustling around her shop and pulling fabric after fabric, "Please come back after lunch time, Mr. Denati. I will have your order ready by then."

Blaise jumped off the stool, followed by the crup and Hadrian. His mother pushed the door open and walked out.

"The next stop, it seems, would be a trunk for your boys, Mr. Denati," said his mother.

They followed his mother to another shop that said 'Truman's Trunks' and entered. An elderly man approached them when the bell signaled their arrival.

"Welcome! Hogwarts bound, I presume?" asked the man enthusiastically, "Oh! And we have some muggleborns with us! How delightful!" he said, smiling down at Caius and Hadrian, "Well, lads, are you excited to go to Hogwarts? I'm sure you are! I have the perfect luggage for you!"

The man caught sight of his mother bowed respectfully, "Lady Zabini," he said, "It is an honor."

His mother smiled, "How do you do, Mr. Vaughn? I trust business is going well."

"It always booms this time of year," answered the older man, "Will you be looking to buy your son a trunk as well, Lady Zabini? He looks to be around the right age."

"I'm afraid we already have a trunk back at home for my Blaise' needs," answered his mother pleasantly.

"I see, I see," Truman Vaughn said, turning to the two young boys, his eyes straying on the beautiful Harry Potter, "Well, come along now, lads – we'll find the perfect trunk for you yet!"

Adalberto and his sons followed the elderly owner deeper into the magically expanded shop.

"Well, it all depends on what you would use the trunk for, of course," prattled Truman, "We have the standard three-compartment trunk, but we also have the larger ones that have their own rooms, libraries and such-"

"Libraries," said Hadrian. Truman jumped a little at his voice, and Blaise could tell the man could also sense the power behind it.

"You have _libraries_ inside your trunks?"

"Some, yes. We even have Potion Labs, Greenhouses and such in some of the more expensive ones."

Hadrian turned to his adoptive father, a slightly maniacal gleam in his eyes as he said, "You will buy what is needed for Caius – nothing more, nothing less. I will buy my own trunk, with my own money."

"My son-"

"I'll be looking at the ones with libraries, now," Hadrian said, completely ignoring his amused yet resigned adoptive father and addressing the equally amused trunk salesman.

"We also have some trunks that have their own Potions Laboratory, and a Greenhouse with artificial light. The greenhouses have limitations, of course, but you can grow some basic potions ingredients in them.

The gleam of interest in Hadrian's eyes deepened, "I want one with a library, a potion lab and a greenhouse."

"We also have some trunks with dueling rooms."

"That, as well," said Hadrian.

"I want one as well!" said Caius, and Hadrian turned to him, looking menacing, "No. You will buy what is needed."

"But Hadrian-!"

"Do you need a library?" drawled Hadrian, his eyelids lowered over his green, green eyes.

"Well, no-"

"Do you need a greenhouse?"

"No, but-"

"Do you need a dueling room?"

"Not either, but-"

"Then, no," Hadrian said, "Buy the necessary one. I will but what I need, as well."

Caius sighed, "Fine."

"Well, we _do _have a trunk with a regular-sized Quidditch pitch, for you young lad," said the trunk salesman.

Moving faster than his eyes could follow, Caius _clung _to Hadrian like an orangutan and _begged_, "Hadrian! _I want one_!"

Blaise sighed. This was going to take a while.

* * *

In the end, Hadrian had bought one of the most expensive trunks available, costing around 2200 Galleons. It had nearly everything:

A large library that could hold thousands of books, an attached study, a greenhouse, a potions lab, a dueling ring (with matching dummies), a standard-sized Quidditch pitch, a planetarium, and a master bedroom with an attached bath.

Hadrian looked very pleased with his purchase. Blaise couldn't stop staring at the upturned smile on the green-eyed beauty's angelic features.

Caius, much to his joy, also bought a trunk with a Quidditch pitch and a broom room. He had only been able to buy one after shameless begging and whining at Hadrian, and not at the father who actually had the money he was going to spend. His trunk cost a lot less than Hadrians – around 500 Galleons – and Hadrian had sighed before he commented, "How certain are you that you will be a good flyer, anyway?"

After buying the trunks, they proceeded to buy their potions kit and ingredients, with Hadrian buying thrice the normal amount – for practice, he had said.

And then next they went to the wand shop.

"Lady Zabini," greeted the old wandmaker, "How… nice… it is to see you again. I remember your wand well: 10 inches, Yew, Dragon Heartstring – Unyielding." He peered down his glasses at his mother, as if he knew about all the husbands she had killed, before sending her a tight-lipped smile.

He next noticed the muggle and his crup, "Ah! A muggleborn! How delightful," he said, smiling. Blaise could tell the moment he laid eyes on Harry Potter, as he had gone absolutely still, "Harry Potter…"

Hadrian blinked his green, green eyes and said frostily, "I go by Hadrian Denati now, actually."

"Harry Potter, Hadrian Denati – it does not matter. The strings of fate are tied tightly around you, whatever name you may choose to go by…"

The old wandmaker then proceeded to stare unabashedly at the indifferent boy.

Sirena cleared her throat, "We are here for wands."

"Yes, yes of course," he said, "My name is Garrick Ollivander," addressing the family of three, "And I will be helping you choose your wand today."

Caius looked like he was about to explode, "Wow! How does one go about doing that?"

"I suppose you will go first, then," said Ollivander, amused at the crup's antics, "It is the wand who chooses the wizard… Mr…"

"My name is Caius Denati!"

"Very well," Ollivander said, smiling. He snapped his fingers and tape measures started to fuss around the excited chestnut-haired boy.

"A wand is the most intimate part of a wizard – it will become their companion for the rest of their lives, for some. It is a combination of four factors: length, wand wood, core and rigidity. Of course, how a wand chooses the wizard is also made up of entirely different circumstances. Personality and your magic plays a very huge role on it all, but there are also small nuances like how tall you are, which is your dominant hand, and etc."

Hadrian soaked up the information as he looked around the shop. The walls were stacked from floor to ceiling with boxes that, he presumed, were filled with custom-made wands.

Blaise watched as Hadrian closed his eyes.

Then he felt it.

Hadrian's magic unfurled itself and caressed every wand in the shop. Blaise shivered and fell to his knees. Ollivander glanced, wide-eyed, at his store as every wand glowed in a multitude of colors before fading. A sound from the back of the store alerted Ollivander that something was moving towards them at a rapid speed.

Two boxes raced towards a giddy-looking Harry Potter and stopped in front of him.

Ollivander gaped, his spectacles slipping down his nose as he stared at the two floating boxes in front of Hadrian. Everyone stared, and Blaise felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest – Hadrian's magic had been worryingly seductive.

"Well! By Merlin," Ollivander said, plucking the two floating boxes off the air with much difficulty – they seemed to be unwilling to part from their new master, "This has certainly never occurred before… Although… Theoretically, I had thought it possible."

The old wandmaker peered down his spectacles at the wide-eyed Hadrian, "You are ambidextrous, I take it, young Mr. Potter."

Hadrian blinked before he nodded, "I am, yes."

"And I take it that you were born with this trait?"

"Well, I never really noticed, but when I started to learn how to write, I interchanged my hands when one of them gets too tired. There was little difference in penmanship."

"I see," Ollivander turned and placed the wands on the counter, mumbling all the while, "Two wands! Why! The likelihood of it happening…"

He opened the first one, and a surprisingly long, white wand that looked to be made out of ivory was held in his grasp. Ollivander's eyes widened, glanced at the Boy-Who-Lived, before it turned speculative, "14 inches, Aspen wood, Phoenix core, unyielding…"

Ollivander peered down at Hadrian, his eyes glittering with curiosity, "Most astounding… Most astounding _indeed_ that this wand would choose someone at all, Mr. Potter."

Hadrian looked wide-eyed and so excited. Blaise himself was still trying to scrape his jaw from the floor. Two wands! He glanced at his mother to see how she was taking the news and saw that Sirena Zabini had a hand to her chest.

Ollivander inspected the beautifully crafted white wand. The wand had intricate carvings all over it and only adding to its beauty, "I had created this wand in my earlier years, back when I was naïve and aspired to sell only the greatest wands – its core was plucked from a particularly spirited Phoenix – thinking I would sell it to a great, revolutionary wizard, for that is what the Aspen wood symbolizes. But over the years I had despaired of ever selling this old wand… It was foolish of me, indeed, to combine Aspen and Phoenix feather, and making it long, to boot! But then…"

Once again, the old wandmaker stared hard at the raptly attentive Hadrian, "Yes… The wand chooses the wizard…" Ollivander handed Hadrian the wand, and with his right hand, he grasped it.

A wave of magic so strong rippled across the small store. A small yet powerful wind messed up some stacks of wands and made the bell above the door tinkle.

"What does all of that mean, Mr. Ollivander?" asked Hadrian, his green eyes were riveted on his new wand, "You said this was made of Aspen wood and had Phoenix feather for its core. Can you explain to me what it all means?"

Ollivander smiled at the inquisitive child, "I'm afraid teaching you the basics of wandlore right now will take too much of your time, Mr. Potter. I suggest you find the book I wrote in Flourish and Blott's about the subject and direct all your questions there."

"Oh?" said Hadrian, "What's the name of the book, Mr. Ollivander?"

"Simply 'Wandlore' by Garrick Ollivander."

"Okay," said Hadrian, "But please – tell me a little about my wand! Just a little bit."

Ollivander chuckled, "Very well. Aspen wood is most suited to charms work and martial magic – that is, dueling and combative magic such as Defense Against the Dark Arts. I have found, in my long years as a wandmaker, that Aspen wood best suit individuals who are strong-minded and determined. Yes…" he said, pausing dramatically to once again peer down at Hadrian, "Aspen wood wands are wands for revolutionaries…"

"Wow…" said Caius in awe, staring at Hadrian's long, white wand.

"And the phoenix feather?" asked Hadrian, "What does that mean?"

"Phoenix feathers are the rarest core type," said Ollivander, "Not because there is short supply, but because they are the pickiest when choosing a wizard. However, they are also the core type that are capable of the greatest range of magic."

Hadrian looked very pleased with his new wand, staring at it in smug satisfaction. He flicked it, and the stack of wands that had toppled over when he first touched his wand righted itself.

His mother choked. Blaise resigned himself to once again picking his jaw from the floor.

Barely a half-hour from _touching_ his wand and the boy was already capable of nonverbal, directive magic?!

"I'm ready for the other wand, now," Hadrian said.

Ollivander blinked and observed Hadrian shrewdly. He turned and opened the second box. It was a slightly shorter wand with elegant carvings, deep brown, and with thicker handle.

"Curious… how very curious… 12 and ½ inches, Walnut, Phoenix feather, surprisingly swishy…" He handed the Boy-Who-Lived his second wand.

Grasping it with his left hand, Hadrian gave the wand a wave and a fiery phoenix appeared at the tip. It soared above them for a good few seconds before it exploded in a cloud of sparks.

"How very curious…" whispered the wandmaker.

"What's curious?" asked Hadrian as he stared at both of his wands in awe.

"Well," said Ollivander, still inspecting Harry Potter as if he were a particularly interesting wand core, "Not so much as curious as it is astounding… Two wands for a single wizard… Granted, it _is_ possible in theory, but to think it would actually happen in my lifetime."

He continued to stare at the Boy-Who-Lived for several more moments before he smiled, an excited gleam in his eyes, "I will be expecting great things from you, Harry Potter… Great things, indeed. Walnut is a wand that chooses witches and wizards of a particularly high intelligence – and often finds itself in the hands of innovators. I wonder what you will be able to accomplish, with these two companions by your side…"

Blaise shuddered. He did not know if it was in anticipation, or in fear.

Ollivander then turned to Caius and Blaise. He motioned for Caius to step forward.

"That was amazing, Hadrian!" exclaimed Caius, "Bloody brilliant! Wow!" he glomped his adoptive half-brother, "You were so awesome! I could really feel your magic this time! And the way the whole shop just _glowed_!"

"Yes, yes," Hadrian said, awkwardly patting Caius on the head. He had no free hands as both of them were occupied with his wands.

"It's your turn now, Caius," Hadrian said, long-sufferingly detaching himself from his clingy brother.

"Right!" exclaimed Caius.

Several tries later, Caius was finally handed his perfect match, "10 inches, Cedar, Dragon Heartstring… Unyielding…" said Ollivander, glancing curiously at Caius, "Cedar woods are particularly known for their loyal owners…"

"All right!" yelled Caius, swishing his wand. Sparks glittered in the air during his downward slash, and Adalberto clapped enthusiastically.

"Bravo, my son!" said Adalberto.

Blaise was next.

Ollivander glanced at him once, then at his mother, and proceeded to go to the back of his shop. He emerged later with a single box, "11 and ½ inches, Blackthorn, Dragon Heartstring, Firm…"

The moment Blaise touched the wand, he _knew_.

He was home.

Smiling as much as his outer persona allowed, he brought the wand down and a surge of black powder emerged from the tip. It floated around him for a few seconds before vanishing.

"Well done, Blaise," his mother said with pride. Blaise smiled up at her.

"Mr. Ollivander," said Hadrian, drawing Blaise' attention to him, "Do you have something to keep my wands in?"

"Oh, of course!" said Ollivander, "I have self-adjusting wand holsters for the right and left handed. Would you like a pair, Mr. Potter?"

"Please, sir, call me Mr. Denati, and yes, I'd like one for each of my wands," he glanced at his adoptive brother, "One for Caius as well."

"I suppose we could get you one as well, Blaise," said his mother.

Ollivander nodded and went to retrieve four wand holsters.

He surfaced from the back of his shop with the wand holsters and explained how to use them, "Now," he said, "These wand holsters are keyed to your magical signature so that only you will be able to remove the wands. They are also protected from the Summoning Charm – meaning they cannot be magicked away from you. All you have to do his flick your hand and, of course, have the proper _intent_, and the wand will drop into your hand."

"Oh," said Caius, strapping his own wand holster (that shrunk down to his own size, "Wicked" the crup breathed), and asked, "What if we can't catch the wand?

"You don't have to worry about that," said Ollivander, "The holsters have tethers so that your wands don't clatter to the floor."

Blaise attached his own holster, watched it shrink, and placed his wand on the holder. He shook his hand, concentrated, and the wand appeared in his waiting hand.

Pleased with their purchases, the group paid and left the wand shop.

"That was certainly interesting," said his mother, glancing unobtrusively at the Boy-Who-Lived. Not for the first time, Blaise wished he knew what his mother was thinking.

"Indeed," said Adalberto, beaming with pride at his sons, "You have always been exceptional, my little Hadrian, but it seems even in this world that fact does not change." He turned to his mother, "Where to, next, Signora?"

"Perhaps lunch first, Mr. Denati, and then we can go to Flourish and Blott's – the bookshop. It will be our last stop for the day, unless of course you would like to purchase your sons additional Quidditch supplies?"

"_Si, si. _Lunch! Boys!" he called, "We will have lunch first, and then we will go to buy you your brooms before heading to the bookshop."

"Yes, Papa," said Hadrian. There was once again that gleam in his eyes that Blaise had learned was excitement, "But before we go to the bookshop, we'll get our trunks, yes?"

"Of course, my son! I know how excited you are to splurge on your books."

"Bookworm," sniggered Caius, "I'll bet we're going to take _forever _in the bookshop!"

They reached the Leaky Cauldron, which was now teeming with customers eager for lunch, and sat at a free table. They ordered from a harassed waiter and waited for their food.

His mother garnered her usual fare of admirers, but once they saw Hadrian they couldn't seem to tear their eyes away. Hadrian, for his part, looked as if he was used to all the stares.

"So," Hadrian said, "Blaise, was it?"

Blaise' heartbeat increased rapidly at the attention the green-eyed boy was giving him. He swallowed carefully before he said, "Yes."

"Is it custom in this world to stare at another person?" Hadrian asked nonchalantly. If Blaise had been predisposed to fairer skin, he would have blushed.

"I- Forgive me, it was rude of me," he said, mortified that he had, indeed, been staring hard at the green-eyed boy since he had first laid eyes on him.

Hadrian surprised him by smiling at him.

"I don't mind," said Harry Potter, "I'm used to being stared at. It is, unusual, however, that you hadn't talked to me yet."

Blaise' brain stuttered to a halt. Potter had _dimples_.

"I-I-I-"

"What my son means to say is," his mother mercifully interjected for him, "He is a quiet type of person, and is rather reserved, aren't you, Blaise my darling?"

"Yes," Blaise said, dark eyes peering at an amused Harry Potter. Mortified, he looked down and suddenly found the patterns on their shabby table endlessly fascinating.

Caius giggled beside Hadrian, "Ohh! Someone's got a crush on Hadrian!"

Feeling like he was about to burst from the humiliation, Blaise lifted his head and glared daggers at the snickering chestnut-haired boy. How dare this _crup_ tease him! "I do not!"

Chancing a glance at Hadrian, Blaise was further embarrassed to not that he seemed to be used to it. Calming himself down, he decided to tell the truth, "It's just – he's fascinating. He's the Boy-Who-Lived, after all!"

"The Boy-Who-Lived?" asked Adalberto, perplexed, "My Hadrian? Is that something like a moniker?"

Blaise turned to look at his mother, forgetting that the family of three did not know who, exactly, Harry Potter was.

"Yes," Sirena Zabini said, "You, Hadrian, are very famous in our world."

Hadrian blinked at her, "What do you mean, famous?"

"You are known as the Boy-Who-Lived, the only known survivor of the Death Curse… And also the one who vanquished the Dark Lord."

Adalberto and Caius gaped at her.

"My Hadrian?" asked Adalberto, completely shocked, "So… he is like a hero in your world? Killing Dark Lords and surviving curses since before he could walk properly?"

Sirena, who had been neutral in the war yet sympathetic of the Dark Lord's views, nodded.

"But why were we not told this?" asked Adalberto, slightly mad and all sorts of confused.

"I can only guess," said Sirena as the food was delivered t their table.

"Tell me more," Harry Potter said, green eyes filled with an eerie glow as he stared at Sirena, "You say I killed the Dark Lord – how?"

"No one knows how, young Harry Potter," his mother said, "But the stories are all the same – on Samhain Eve, the Dark Lord trespassed in your home, killed your father, then your mother, and tried to kill you. Only he failed – and now he is gone…"

Green eyes widened, "But I do not remember anything!"

"Really?" asked his mother, curious despite herself, "You remember nothing at all?"

"Well," began Harry Potter uncertainly, "There are nights, when I dream… And I see a monstrous man with glowing red eyes pointing a stick at me. A flash of green light, and then, nothing."

There was silence around the table. Everyone was staring at a contemplative Harry.

"But he is dead now," said Adalberto, laying a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder, "There is nothing you should worry about, my son."

The unlikely group of five ate their meal in silence.

Blaise looked at his mother and saw the knowing glint in her eyes, and he worried.

There was something she would not tell them.

* * *

After lunch, the group grabbed their trunks, and then their pre-ordered clothes from Madam Malkin's, before making their way towards Quality Quidditch Supplies – where an unhealthily _bouncing_ Caius pointed at the newest broom available on the market – the Nimbus 2000. The muggle father and his muggleborn son looked positively _gleeful_ at the prospect of buying the fastest broom on the market. Hadrian merely looked resigned.

Quality Quidditch Supplies was a few shops away from Flourish and Blott's, and Hadrian kept looking longingly outside the window to moon at the bookshop.

"I will buy you one, too, of course, my son," said Adalberto, "Oh how pitiable indeed to not be able to use such beauties!"

"You still have your racing cars to toy with, Papa," said an amused Hadrian.

"Yes – but racing cars do not _fly,_ no?"

The family finally bought their brooms: two Nimbus 2000's, much to Blaise' secret envy.

"Can head over to the bookshop _now_?" asked Hadrian impatiently.

They made their way over to Flourish and Blott's, and, much to Blaise' amusement, Hadrian was barely restraining himself.

When they were finally inside, Blaise fully expected the Boy-Who-Lived to go berserk on the unsuspecting books, but instead was quite tickled to find the green-eyed boy practically vibrating on the spot.

"What are you waiting for, my son?" asked Adalberto, puzzled.

"My considerable willpower is telling me to wait for instructions," answered Hadrian testily.

Caius laughed, "Damn your considerable willpower! Go, my brother! Be free!"

Hadrian glared at his adoptive brother and glanced impatiently at his father.

Adalberto smiled indulgently, "We will meet you here in two hours, no more, no less."

Hadrian was gone before the patriarch could finish his sentence.

"I'm going to follow him and watch the bloodbath," said Caius gleefully. He pranced after the black-haired boy who was pulling book after book after book onto the feather-weight trolley, leaving his father and the two Zabinis behind at the entrance.

"Well then, Blaise," said Sirena, and Blaise glanced up to meet his mother's dark eyes, "I have your Hogwart's list here, why don't you go get the books?"

Blaise nodded and followed the Denati brothers. He heard a scream deeper into the shop and sincerely hoped that Caius the Crup was kidding when he said he was going to watch Hadrian perform a bloodbath.

After several minutes of looking around for his books (and several other interesting books he found), Blaise ambled back to the entrance to find his mother and Adalberto Denati engaged in casual conversation.

"Ah! There you are, Blaise my dariling," said his mother when she saw him, "Have you found everything?"

"Yes," he said, "And a few more, too."

"Is there any sign of my young Hadrian stopping anytime soon?"

"Nope!" a cheerful voice said behind me. Caius bounced over to Adalberto with his own books in stow, "No chance of _that_ stopping anytime soon."

"Dear me," said his mother, watching as the stacks of books on Hadrian's trolley grew higher and higher. It seems the clever boy had realized that the trolleys had magic in them that prevented the books from toppling over.

Caius looked affectionately at his father, "Do you remember New York Papa, at that really large bookstore?"

"Oh, yes," Adalberto said fondly, "The manager had to file a restraining order! Good times, good times… You and Hadrian were 9, yes?"

"I was 9, Hadrian was 8," Caius said.

"Well, why don't we pay for all of this, then?" said Adalberto, "After you, Signora."

Sirena smiled and motioned for Blaise to follow her, "Come, Blaise, I'm sure it will take a long time for Hadrian to finish his own selections."

"Yes, Mother," Blaise said obediently.

They paid for their books, and Caius dumped his own purchases in his own trunk.

After another hour, Hadrian finally emerged from the depths of the bookshop, looking as pristine as ever. He brushed imaginary dirt off his shoulders and turned to his gaping family, "I'm finished."

Blaise had to swallow the urge to gape at the towering stacks of books that Hadrian was toting around. The stacks were at _least_ three times as tall as Hadrian and covered a multitude of subjects. Hadrian seemed very pleased with himself after they all paid and he had tested the genuineness of the trunk he had just purchased.

"Well?" asked Hadrian's father, looking quite amused at his adopted son, "Is everything in order, my son?"

"Yes, Papa," answered Hadrian, nose buried in a book entitled, 'The Magic of Magic: A Comprehensive Guide to the Wizarding World for Muggleborns' by Evangeline Hendge, "Did you know? Dragons are real," the Boy-Who-Lived said.

"Really?!" said Caius bouncing up and down as he excitedly made a grab for the book Hadrian was reading. The black-haired boy expertly dodged Caius' grabbing hands in a smooth motion.

"Yes, brother mine," said Hadrian, eyes not even deigning to glance in his brother's direction, "Unicorns, too."

"Wicked!" exclaimed the crup, "Tell me more!"

"Later, when I'm finished," said Hadrian.

The group of five made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron, and Adalberto smiled, "It has been a magnififcent day out, Signora," he said, "I would like to repay you for the kind favor you and your son has granted us."

"Nonsense!" said his mother, and Blaise wondered what she was playing at. His mother _never_ did something without reason – which was usually a reason that benefited her or Blaise.

"It was only our pleasure to help you," said his mother. She seemed so sincere that Blaise almost believed her.

Adalberto laughed, "No, no! You must think of something we can do for you!"

His mother looked uncertainly at Blaise, and he almost applauded her for her praise-worthy performance, "Well, there is one thing…"

"What is it, Signora?"

"My darling Blaise," his mother said, and Blaise could tell that this did not bode well for him, "I worry about him. He does not have enough friends… Perhaps your boys could write to him over the summer?"

Blaise felt blood rush to his ears, "Mother!"

Was his mother insinuating that he was _lonely_?!

Adalberto laughed, "I see! Well, I will make certain my boy will write to their new friend! It will only be polite, after all!"

Sirena smiled, "It is best that you purchase an owl for that purpose, then, to deliver the letters."

"Owl?" asked Adalberto, puzzled.

"Yes. It is like muggle post, only quicker. We wizards use owls to deliver our letters."

"_Ammazza_!" exclaimed Adalberto, "Owls! How delightful! We shall purchase one at once!"

His mother smiled and led the way to the pet shop. Blaise, mortified, could only stare at the ground as he mulled over his mother's 'request'.

Caius would not stop snickering, "So, you don't have enough friends?"

Blaise growled.

Surprisingly, Hadrian snapped the book (he was already more than half-way through the three-inch thick tome) he was reading and addressed his brother in a tone Blaise had never heard him use before, "Caius." It was all he said, but Caius sent him a look of such remorse that Blaise thought Caius did a grievous offense by teasing him.

They arrived at Eeylop's Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie and entered. Blaise immediately wrinkled his nose at the overpowering smell – as did his mother.

Owls of every color, breed, and size littered the small space and hooted at them. Blaise cringed in distaste as he observed a particular owl (this one tawny, small, and golden brown) jet all over its cage in excitement.

"Well boys," said Adalberto magnanimously, "I will let you choose one owl. We will be waiting outside. Just fetch us when you have chosen."

Blasie gladly followed his mother outside and waited. He wondered how long it would take the crup to choose an owl for his own.

Then, a loud scream startled the three of them waiting outside for the two boys. Adalberto acted immediately, rushing inside the pet shop.

"Get back! Get back!" yelled a man as he brandished his wand at something in the corner.

Blaise paled.

There, in the corner, Harry Potter was covered with _snakes_.

They coiled around his arms and trunk and legs, draped over his shoulders, nestled on top of his head.

"Get back!" said the man.

"Hadrian!" yelled Adalberto in panic. Blaise saw that Caius was pale and shaking in another corner of the store. He ran to Hadrian but was held back by his father.

"Papa! Hadrian! We must help him!"

But then he heard it. A low hissing sound that somehow came, not from the snakes, but from the boy the snakes were smothering.

He heard a heavy thud from slightly behind him.

His mother had fainted.

Blaise would have felt inclined to follow her into blissful oblivion had he not been too busy reeling in shock – Harry Potter was a Parselmouth.

He wondered how much excitement one could take in a day before succumbing to stress.

Blaise watched as all the snakes hissed before slithering back to their respective cages. The man that was busy brandishing his wand at Hadrian and the snakes stared at the snakes' retreating forms in wide-eyed shock.

"Hadrian!" yelled Caius, managing to get free from his father's tight grip to run to his adoptive brother, "Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?" he asked worriedly.

Hadrian brushed his concern aside, "I'm fine," he glanced at Blaise' mother's prone form, "You should all make sure Mrs. Zabini is all right."

Adalberto started. He approached Blaise mother and gingerly made her sit up.

A few minutes later, his mother came too, "Oh, Blaise my darling! I had the _oddest_ dream!" she looked around her, spotted Hadrian (who looked curiously at her) and blinked, "Apparently it wasn't a dream after all."

"I'm afraid not, Mother," Blaise said gravely.

His mother blinked once more –she seemed to be in a daze, but was otherwise fine – before righting herself up and casting cleaning charms on herself.

"I'm sorry I caused you such a shock, Lady Zabini," said Hadrian, "I didn't know you were afraid of snakes. I apologize."

"I'm not afraid of snakes, child," said his mother, faintly amused, "I grew up in the House of Snakes, after all."

"House of Snakes?"

"A conversation for another day," his mother said.

"Papa! Papa! I want this one," exclaimed Caius, happily pointing to a large, black Screech owl with yellow eyes and fierce-looking talons. Blaise' eyes twitched. It was curious how the seemingly harmless crup would choose one of the most lethal-looking animals in the whole pet shop.

"And you, Hadrian?" asked Adalberto, "Have you chosen one?"

"I'm afraid no animal struck me as particularly interesting, Papa," said Hadrian, shrugging his shoulders, "I'll just share with Caius if all the owl has to do is deliver mail."

"Very well, then," Adalberto said.

They paid for the black owl without much fanfare and left Eeylop's Emporium – the clerk eyeing Hadrian warily all the while.

In silence, the group made their way to the Leaky Cauldron with Blaise glancing surreptitiously at his mother every few seconds or so. She looked fine. But, _Morgana_, she had fainted! Fainted! His mother had _never_ –

"Today sure has been an exciting day," commented his mother. Blaise could have snorted had he been raised in a less proper environment – exciting was an understatement!

"Very much so!" said the Denati patriarch, clasping his two boys on their shoulders. He noticed, with slight amusement, how Hadrian was once again buried behind his book. The trunks he had bought trailed dutifully behind him.

"It was very interesting, accompanying you and your family, Mr. Denati," said his mother as the passed through the enchanted entrance. They entered the Leaky Cauldron and Blaise and his mother headed towards the Floo Network.

"We are in your debt, Signora, for guiding us throughout the day," said Adalberto, "In any case, the boys should exchange addresses now that we have our own owl."

His mother conjured a parchment and quickly scribbled their address on it. She gave it to a mischievous-looking Caius and said, "Just tell your owl to give the letter to Blaise Zabini – some of the more intelligent owls don't even need an address, just a name, and they would still be able to deliver the letter."

Caius' eyes widened comically, "Wicked!"

"Indeed," said his mother, amused.

Blaise fidgeted. Hadrian (whose attention was solely engrossed on the book) had only paid attention to him less than a handful of times. Blaise had never wanted someone's attention so badly before.

He was unaware that he was staring at the green-eyed boy until said boy's father coughed into his hand and said, "Hadrian, Blaise and his mother will be going now."

Hadrian's endlessly green eyes peered from atop his book.

Blaise' heart beat faster in his chest, but he swore that it stopped for a second when those green eyes warmed for a moment, and the dimples he had seen earlier flashed his way.

Hadrian had smiled at him.

"Goodbye, Blaise," Hadrian said, "It was nice meeting you."

Blaise did not remember what he had said, but his mother had accused him of having a _crush_ on Hadrian when they had reached their manor.

Blaise, indignant, said he was _beneath_ such frivolous emotions and had stalked to his room with all his purchases in tow.

Later that night, as Blaise lay in his bed, his last thought before sleep claimed him was about a boy with skin as pale as moonlight, hair as dark as night, and eyes the color of the Death Curse.

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone!

This chapter has been a _pain_ to write. I found it so utterly _boring_. I am completely disappointed with how it turned out, but I still hope that you would like it.

Anyway.

**Shizue-sejin **has very kindly volunteered to bounce ideas with me. Much, much love to this wonderful author! If you also wish to open a correspondence with me regarding this story, feel free to PM me. Also, I am still looking for a Beta Reader, someone who will proof-read my stories before I publish them.

Also, I know I did not mention it anywhere in the first chapter, but **I disclaim ownership over the Harry Potter franchise**_**. **_It is not mine, nor will it ever be. This disclaimer should be enough for the succeeding chapters.

I would also like to thank the people who reviewed, followed and added my story to their favorites list. You have no idea how obsessively I checked the story stats on my account. It would also be nice if you reviewed with your account in so that I can reply.

Reviews are love!


	3. Hogwarts, At Last

**Magicke Moste Potente**

Hogwarts, At Last

* * *

Caius was vibrating beside him.

"Can you _believe_ it, Hadrian?" his brother gushed, bouncing up and down his seat, "We're finally going to _Hogwarts_!"

Hadrian Perseus Denati, or, as the entirety of the Wizarding world knew him, Harry James Potter, discretely sighed and continued to read the fascinating book he was holding and expertly ignored his hyperactive brother.

Today was September 1st, and that meant that today was the day that they would be boarding the Hogwarts Express in order to arrive at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school of _magic_.

Hadrian himself was _very_ excited, but, as he glanced at his brother, it was not a reason to act so… _unbecoming_.

"Yes, yes, Caius," he said long-sufferingly as his brother continued to chatter non-stop at him, "We're going to Hogwarts. Now calm _down_."

His adoptive father chuckled in his own seat. They were riding one of the smaller limos in order to fit in traffic much more smoothly, but, in Hadrian's opinion, they were still sticking out like a sore thumb. People on the sidewalk gawked and stretched their necks to get a better view of their limo, most probably wondering which celebrity was seated inside.

The summer had gone by in a blur of reading and learning. Hadrian was delighted to find that magic came easily for him. He had already mastered all the spells in the first year text, and some useful ones in other textbooks, before gobbling up even more information on the world he was about to enter. The potions laboratory in his trunk had also proven to be useful in learning some of the potions in the textbook. He had, in fact, spent most of his summer holed up inside his ridiculously large trunk, just reading in the attached study or practicing his spell work.

The hardest part about the summer, however, had been saying goodbye to the numerous private teachers and tutors he had that supplemented his learning in his old private school. His violin instructor, in particular, had even _cried_ when he had told the man that he was going to have to postpone his lessons until next summer. His piano teacher had also seemed upset when he told her that he was stopping his lessons indefinitely.

His only consolation for having to cancel his much beloved music lessons was that he was able to fit the grand piano and his violin into his trunk, otherwise, he would have been missing his ability to play the two instruments while he was at Hogwarts.

Hadrian sighed.

"What bothers you, my son?" asked his father, ever observant.

"Nothing, Papa," he said, flipping another page in his book, 'Rudimentary Runes' by Rembrandt Rambling, "I just wish we took one of the smaller cars. People are gawking."

Adalberto laughed, and Caius stuck his nose in the air, "People are just jealous," he said snottily in a manner that was so unlike him Hadrian nearly snorted.

He glanced at his brother and smirked, "Oh? Channeling your inner Slytherin, are you?"

Caius immediately lost his superior attitude and looked unsure, "How was it?"

"Caius," Hadrian said, sighing and closing the book he was reading with a 'snap', "Why are you trying so hard to be someone you're not?"

Caius looked appropriately cowed, "I just… I don't want to be separated from you."

Ever since Caius had learned that there was to be a Sorting, and that First Years were to be separated into four Houses, he had been worried. He asked Hadrian endless questions and even Blaise, who they had been corresponding with since they had met him in Diagon Alley, had sensed Caius' worry.

Caius proceeded to ask Blaise what _other_ characteristics Slytherins had, and Blaise promptly answered that, aside from being ambitious, sly, and cunning, Slytherins tended to act superior and – in Caius' understanding – snotty.

Caius even went so far as to _read_ the passage about the four Houses in Hadrian's book, 'Hogwarts, A History' and summarily deduced that Hadrian would definitely be Sorted into Slytherin.

Hadrian's emerald green eyes softened, "Caius," he began, sighing again as Caius straightened up in his seat and gave him his utmost attention, "It doesn't matter what House we'll be Sorted into."

"Of course it does!" his brother immediately argued, "What if I don't get Sorted into Slytherin? What'll I do, then?"

"You don't even _know_ if I'll be in Slytherin," said Hadrian in a feeble attempt at placating his distressed brother. Hadrian did not know where this vehement insistence came from – even Hadrian saw himself in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin.

Caius looked absolutely _miserable_, "Of course you'll be in Slytherin!" he said, "It says in the book, 'All who aspire greatness are Sorted into the House of Slytherin, where the ambitious find their place,' and that's _you_, Hadrian! You – You've always been _great, _and I _know_ you've always wanted to be great, too!"

Hadrian smiled, and Caius immediately brightened up at seeing one of his rare grins, "What about Ravenclaw, then? Don't you think I belong there, too? And you and I both know we could be in Ravenclaw together."

"But I don't like studying, or knowledge!"

"Still, you have stellar grades…"

"That's because of _you_!" said Caius, unnecessarily waving his hands about in the air, "If it weren't for _you_, you _know_ I won't study!"

Adalberto, observing the candid interactions of his sons, laughed heartily, "Oh, Caius, I'm sure it will be fine, my son!"

"Papa!" Caius whined, "What if I get separated from Hadrian! I don't know what I'll do then!"

"Caius," Hadrian said, gently grabbing his brother's chin and looking straight at his cornflower blue eyes, "It does not matter what House we'll be Sorted into, we will always be brothers."

Caius' blue eyes turned liquid sapphire. He was crying, "Hadrian," he sobbed, "I don't want to be parted from you…"

Hadrian felt a surge of affection for his brother and smiled, "We won't be, brother."

Caius jerked free from Hadrian's hold and hugged him tightly around the waist, "I love you."

Sighing, Hadrian patted his brother's chestnut hair and whispered soothing nothings in his ear.

The limo made a right turn and suddenly, Hadrian was looking at King's Cross Station.

"We are here, my sons," said Adalberto, hesitant to interrupt a poignant family moment.

Hadrian gently pried his brother's arms away from him and said, "Come on, Caius, I'm sure everything will be fine. Besides, we'll be going to Hogwarts and learning _magic_."

Caius looked into his brother's emerald green eyes and saw the unaffected and contagious excitement there. He smiled wobbly, "All right."

"Come on," Hadrian said, opening the door to their limo and stepping out. The chauffeur unloaded their trunks from the back of the car – Hadrian noted his shocked expression, the trunks were feather-weight, after all – and placed them on the ground. Caius nodded jerkily and grabbed the owl cage sitting next to him. Minas, Caius' black Screech owl, who had been silent the entire trip to King's Cross Station, hooted indignantly at Caius' rough handling.

"Sorry, Minas," Caius said.

Adalberto walked both his sons to the barrier between Platform 9 and 10. People looked at Hadrian and Caius oddly – no doubt because they had worn wizard clothes, which looked like clothes from the 1900's. Their father stopped between the barrier and looked, teary-eyed, at his sons. He would not be able to go much further than this due to his muggle status.

"Well, my sons, this is where we part," Adalberto said, his voice thick with emotion.

Caius ran and hugged his father tightly, "I will miss you dearly, Papa," he said.

Hadrian also hugged the man who had rescued him from the orphanage tightly, "As will I, Papa."

Adalberto stooped down and returned the hugs with equal force, "Do not forget to write! I will see you in four month's time…"

The close family of three let go. People around them wondered what they were doing congregating around a brick wall. But, as they continued to stare, the magic surrounding the barrier between Platform 9 and 10 prevented them from thinking too deeply on it.

"I will go first," said Hadrian, "Goodbye, Papa Berto."

Heart pounding, Hadrian ran into the barrier between Platform 9 and 10 and walked straight into Platform 9 ¾.

The Hogwarts Express gleamed in the sunlight.

Despite the sadness he felt from leaving his Papa behind, Hadrian smiled. He was _finally_ going to Hogwarts.

He walked forward and waited for his brother to walk through the barrier. A minute later, Caius emerged, his expression changing from cautious determination to utter awe.

"Wow," his brother breathed.

"Let's go, Caius," Hadrian said, tapping his wand, the Aspen one, on his trunk to make it follow behind him, "Let's find seats. Maybe Blaise can catch up to us later."

Once again in high spirits, Caius bobbed his chestnut head up and down and agreed with a cheerful, "All right!"

Hadrian led the way, garnering looks and double takes as he passed people by. Hadrian bore it all well, used to the stares that accompanied his ethereal beauty. Behind him, Caius was busy staring at the great, red steam-engine train that would take them to Hogwarts.

"Doesn't it look like that train set Papa bought you for your 7th birthday?" asked Caius.

Hadrian spared the Hogwarts express a glance and said, "It does, doesn't it?"

They boarded the train and set off to find a vacant compartment. Hadrian led them to the back of the train and opened the empty compartment at the end. Stepping inside, Hadrian opened his trunk and reached inside. His hand, then his head, disappeared inside the trunk as he searched for a book to read. Once he found one, he closed his trunk and, brandishing his Aspen wand, Hadrian levitated both of their trunks and placed them in the space above their heads.

"I still don't know how you _do _that," said Caius in awe. Hadrian shrugged, "You just make your magic do it for you," said Hadrian.

Caius placed Minas gently on the seat, next to the open window, "Yes, but _how_?"

Opening a book that he had already read, 'Finding Your Familiar,' by Fabian Fletcher, Hadrian sat down opposite his brother and started to re-read some interesting passages.

"_Hadrian_," Caius whined, "You're not seriously going to be reading for the rest of the trip, are you?" he asked.

Hadrian elegantly shrugged and remained silent.

"Come on, brother mine!" egged Caius, "At least teach me how you use your magic so that I can do it, too!"

Hadrian peered over the book at his – technically – older brother, "I already tried, Caius. As I recall, you had _difficulty_ following my instructions."

Caius huffed, crossed his arms, and petulantly opted to stare outside the window.

Blessed silence reigned in the compartment.

And then, "Hadrian!" yelled someone breathlessly as the compartment door banged open.

Irritated at the noise, Hadrian glanced at the open door to find a panting Blaise Zabini. Closing the book he was reading, Hadrian angled his head slightly as an invitation to sit inside their compartment. Blaise looked a little _too_ eager to see him, and Hadrian had to suppress a sigh at the Pureblood's antics. Though he was far more reserved than Caius, it still did not deter from the fact that, like Caius, Blaise had a _bit_ of a fixation on him.

As he stared at Blaise – who was visibly trying to compose himself – Hadrian wondered what it was about him that made people either love him obsessively or, as evidenced by the people in the orphanage, hate him with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

"Blaise," he said, smiling slightly at the flustered Italian, "How was your summer?"

He flicked his wrist and his 14-inch Aspen wand materialized in his hand. Pointing it at Blaise' luggage, Hadrian levitated it and placed it at the space above their heads just for that purpose.

Caius smiled brightly at the Italian, "Hi Blaise! It's nice to see you again!"

Blaise nodded at Caius and took a seat beside him, opposite Hadrian, "My summer was… okay," he said. Hadrian nodded congenially and cracked the book he was reading once more. After a few seconds, he could feel Blaise boring holes into him. Once again suppressing a sigh, he glanced at Blaise and said, "What is it, Blaise?"

Blaise jumped, apparently guilty at being caught _staring_, and said, "Nothing, I just – "

"Ohh!" teased Caius, "Did you _miss_ Hadrian, Blaise?"

Blaise glared daggers at his brother, "You shut your mouth, you _crup_!"

Caius merely laughed, "It seems your little _crush_ on Hadrian had not waned in the least over the summer!"

Blaise looked positively _mortified_, "I do not have a _crush _on Ha-Hadrian!"

Hadrian opted to but out of Caius' childish teasing and continued to read.

"Anyway," Blaise said a few minutes later, after he had wrestled with Caius (causing Caius to slam into Minas' cage, which made the regal Screech owl hoot in irritation), "What are you going to do with this _Harry Potter_ business, Hadrian?" he asked.

Hadrian snapped out of the trance he was in while reading at hearing the question. He shrugged and said, "Nothing, I suppose. The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall already told me I would be recognized as Harry Potter in this world, but I'm already so accustomed to _Hadrian_ that I'll probably stick with that name. People will still call me Potter, of course, but…" he glanced at his brother, "I'll always be a Denati first and foremost."

Caius beamed at him.

Blaise looked uncertain, "You _do_ know that being Harry Potter is more than just… a change in _name_, surely?"

Emerald green eyes turned calculating, "I've read a few books that mentioned me. The one in 'Greatest Wizards of the 20th Century' was _particularly _flattering, and mostly untrue. I _do _have an idea what it means to be Harry Potter."

He glanced at Blaise, eyeing the Pureblood with a shrewd gleam in his eye, "I know a lot of people are… grateful… I also know that a lot of people are… _not_."

Blaise' eyes widened, and he swallowed. Hadrian blinked, mind going a mile a minute.

Hadrian knew, that by defeating the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who (which was a positively _ridiculous_ moniker for the Darkest Wizard of the century), he had garnered a lot of enemies.

He had read, in several books, about the ongoing bigotry the Wizarding world was immersed in, about _Pureblood Supremacy_ and other such tripe, which was what You-Know-Who had allegedly been fighting for. He had also read, on the other side of the fence, about _Muggle Tolerance_ and adapting to _Muggleborns_ _in Society_.

Honestly, Hadrian did not know what to believe unless he had concrete evidence supporting both sides. On one hand, believing that _blood is superior _was like believing that one race was superior to another, which was absolutely _untrue_ as far as he was concerned. You-Know-Who reminded him a lot of Adolf Hitler in that sense. On the other hand, immersing the Wizarding World in all things Muggle would be a complete travesty. There was a _reason_ the Wizarding world was separate from the muggle world. Things like tradition and culture and history would be swallowed up by the technological _madness_ the muggle world was heading towards, and Hadrian did not wish for that, either.

He flipped a page in the book he was holding, eyes distant and not really reading a word on the page. There was _so much _he did not know.

Heart pounding in excitement, Hadrian _ached_ with the knowledge that, the more he _knew, _the more he did not _know._

He could not _wait _to learn more.

Blaise shuddered, "Ha-Hadrian… Your _magic_."

He blinked, "What?"

"It's… I dunno… I can _feel _it," Blaise said, eyes glazed over.

Hadrian frowned and, indeed, his magic was all over the place. Reining it in, he noticed that Blaise had sighed in… disappointment? He glanced confusedly at the Italian, "Is something the matter, Blaise?"

"No-nothing," Blaise stammered, "It's just that, your _magic_…"

Hadrian frowned deeper, "What about my magic?"

Caius spoke, "I could feel it too, Hadrian. It felt _really_ good."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued. He had not read about _this _before, about magic affecting other people so, "What did it feel like?"

"Excited," Blaise breathed, eyes still a bit glazed over, "_Powerful_."

Hadrian blinked uncertainly at the drugged-looking Italian boy, "I see. I'll be sure not to do it again."

"No!" Blaise said too quickly. His eyes widened, and he seemed flustered as he backtracked, "I mean, no. It's… It's all right, really."

Caius was nodding eagerly, "Yeah, Hadrian! Like I said, it felt _really _good."

The train whistled, signaling that it was about to depart, and Hadrian flicked his right hand. Once again, his Aspen wand materialized, "_Tempus," _he said. The time read '11:30 AM'

"You can do spells already, then?" asked Blaise, eyes wide and pupils still dilated with the after-effects of being immersed in Hadrian's magic. He looked impressed and awe-struck, staring at Hadrian's wand almost worshipfully. Hadrian hid his concern for the olive-skinned Italian boy expertly. He wondered if it was _healthy_ for the boy to express this much hero-worship for him. He wondered if it had something to do with being the Boy-Who-Lived and then brushed it off, categorizing the knowledge as irrelevant.

"Yes, I've practiced every spell in the books and they all worked fine," Hadrian said nonchalantly.

"You… What?" asked Blaise weakly.

"Yeah!" said Caius, bobbing his head excitedly, "He can do it all! But I can barely manage _Wingardium Leviosa_, which is totally unfair."

"I-" Blaise started, "I can only do the first three on chapter one in the Charms book…"

"Really?" Hadrian asked, tilting his head. He noted that even children who grew up in the Wizarding world, and Pureblood to boot, had difficulty mastering the spells in the textbooks.

He wondered if it was just Blaise, or if _he_ was just considerably more powerful than the rest.

Smug satisfaction welled up inside of him, and Hadrian consciously reined in his magic as it bubbled and unfurled beneath his skin.

"What other things have you been learning?" asked Blaise curiously as the train started to move. Minas hooted in his cage as he felt a shift in his gravity.

Hadrian shrugged. Caius was once again _vibrating_ in his seat in excitement, "We're _finally moving_!" he said over and over and over again.

"I've been practicing brewing the potions in the text. I'm about ¾ through. So far, everything's been… adequate," Hadrian said.

Blaise nodded, still looking far too impressed. It was starting to unsettle Hadrian.

"Anyway," Blaise said, "People are looking for you, you know."

"Looking for me?" Hadrian asked uninterestedly, once again giving the book he was holding his attention, "Why? And Caius, settle _down_." Obediently, Caius stopped bouncing around in his seat.

"Well, people _are_ aware that you're 11 this year. Which means you'll be going to Hogwarts this year. This means that people are going up and down the train looking for Harry Potter." Blaise said, uncharacteristically worried.

Hadrian shrugged, "Let them, what's the worse they can do?"

The door opened and clattered noisily against its frame, and Hadrian raised the book he was reading higher in order to hide his face. It seems he had spoken too soon.

Light footsteps echoed in the compartment, announcing two new additions to the small space.

"Hello," said a girl's haughty voice, "Have any of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Hadrian gripped the book he was reading tighter. It seems the girl – and Neville, who he assumed was with her – was just looking for a toad.

"Oh! What _is _that you're reading?" asked the girl. She sounded _far _too stuck up, Hadrian decided as he flipped another page in his book.

Blaise decided to answer for him, "None of _your_ business," he said, sounding superior himself, "And who might _you _be?"

The girl took a few seconds to answer him, perhaps taken aback by Blaise' hostility and Hadrian's snubbing.

"Well, I'm Hermione Granger," she said, her voice slightly confused, before it once again sounded superior, "Anyway, I am _quite_ curious about that book you're reading," she said, once again addressing Hadrian, "I've never read 'Finding Your Familiar', it all sounds a bit rubbish to me-"

"_What _is your business here?" demanded Blaise, "And if it's about the _toad_," he said, spitting out the word 'toad' as if it were particularly disgusting, "We haven't seen one. You can take _yourself_ and _Longbottom_ out of here."

Oh? Hadrian noted that Blaise seemed to recognize the other boy, Neville Longbottom, as he continued to pointedly ignore the other girl.

"I wasn't talking to _you_," she said.

Hadrian snapped the book he was holding _shut_.

The girl, and Hadrian saw that she had mousy, bushy hair and large front teeth, stared at him with wide eyes. Her cheeks _rapidly_ turned red at the sight of him, and Hadrian once _again_ had to conceal a long-suffering sigh.

"Yes?" he asked, his mask of politeness firmly in place. He shifted his gaze from the blushing, bushy-haired girl to the gaping, and slightly pudgy boy with brown hair, "What can we do for you?" he asked, deciding to get the whole thing over with.

The girl, Hermione Granger, stuttered, "I – We – Neville – Toad…"

Caius, who was used to people turning into stuttering idiots around Hadrian, artfully concealed his chuckle as a cough.

"You've lost a toad, Neville?" Hadrian asked, his piercing green eyes regarding the boy in front of him.

Neville nodded, "My… My t-toad, T-Trevor… Got lost once I boarded the t-train. Hermione de-decided to help me f-find him."

Hadrian wondered if Neville's stutter was because of _him _(which, he thought, was perhaps rather arrogant of him), or if Neville himself really suffered from it. He flicked his right hand, and his long, white, Aspen wand appeared in it. Hermione's brown eyes widened comically, and she gasped dramatically.

"_Accio _Trevor the Toad," Hadrian said nonchalantly.

Seconds passed by and suddenly, a fat toad smacked into the back of Neville's head, who had been standing in front of Hadrian.

The brown-haired boy turned and made a sound of pleasant surprise, "Trevor!" he exclaimed, clutching the croaking toad tightly against his chest. He turned and regarded Hadrian with a large, grateful smile on his face, "Thank you!"

Hermione looked shocked, "I haven't heard of that spell before!" she shouted excitedly, "I've read _all _of the textbooks, of course, and memorized them by _heart_, but none of the texts ever _mentioned _that spell!"

Hadrian shrugged, slightly annoyed with the chattering bushy-haired girl. She reminded her of one of his classmates at his exclusive private school, who thought he was _oh-so_ superior because he had a few more I.Q. points than the other children.

As if 12 points was really _that_ much of a difference.

However, instead of immediately brushing the girl off, he chose to humor her, "It's in the fourth year text," he said shortly, "I learned it from there."

"_Fourth Year!_" exclaimed Hermione, "Wow! You- You must be _really_ good at magic," she said, her voice shy and her brown eyes shining.

Caius snickered.

Hadrian sighed. He recognized the symptoms.

Blaise looked ready to explode, "Well! You've got _Longbottom_'s _Toad_! You can get out now," he said frostily.

"No need to be _jealous, _Blaise," Caius said. He was enjoying this _far too much_, Hadrian noticed as he once again made a grab for 'Finding Your Familiar'.

"Oh!" said Hermione "But…" she glanced _longingly_ at Hadrian, "I don't even know your name…"

If it was at all possible, the temperature dropped around Blaise as he regarded her with glacial eyes, "It's _none_ of _your_ business, you _filthy little mudblood-"_

_Snap._

Blaise turned his head towards the heavy sound of a thick book closing and noticed that Hadrian's magic seemed _displeased. _

"Blaise," Hadrian said, his voice below zero, "You _will_ refrain from uttering that _disgusting_ word in my presence."

Hermione stared, wide-eyed and awed, at Hadrian.

Blaise looked cowed and distressed, "I- I'm sorry, Hadrian…"

"You forget, that Caius himself is muggleborn…"

Blaise looked downright _panicked_ now, "I'm sorry! I forgot, really!"

Caius frowned, "What's a mudblood, Hadrian?"

Hadrian glanced at Caius, and his eyes softened, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Caius."

Hermione glanced at Hadrian, then at Blaise, then at Caius, then back at Hadrian. She seemed coy when she said, "So, your name is Hadrian…"

Hadrian sent her a tight-lipped smile that had her swooning, "I am, yes."

Without invitation, Hermione sat down beside Hadrian, completely ignoring Neville who was standing uncertainly at the entrance to the compartment. Hadrian sighed and said, "You might as well sit down, Neville."

Neville glanced uncertainly at Blaise, who was glaring daggers at Hermione, and sat down, far too curious about Hadrian to be embarrassed or shy.

When he had seated himself, Hadrian waved his hand at the door, and it closed, making a sharp 'snap' sound as it locked itself.

"Wow!" Hermione breathed, impressed, "You can do _wandless_ magic!"

Hadrian shrugged, "It's nothing," he said, "I've been doing all sorts of things without my wand."

Hermione seemed euphoric that his attention was on her, and Hadrian inwardly cringed. He glanced at Caius, who was mouthing the word 'fan girl' at him with mischief in his eyes. Hermione's sole attention was on Hadrian, her brown eyes shining in hero-worship as she regarded him.

"What other things can you do without your wand, Hadrian?" she asked gushingly.

Hadrian sent his book one last, longing look before he addressed Hermione, "Just… simple things, like levitating things or turning pages…" he said modestly, if a bit untruthfully. _That_ was _certainly_ not all he could do.

He could do all sorts of things without his wand.

"_Wow_," breathed Hermione. Her brown eyes were glazed over as she stared dreamily at Hadrian.

Blaise coughed impatiently, "Aren't you supposed to be leaving now?" he asked irritably at the bushy-haired witch.

Hadrian himself wished she would leave him alone. She was acting _just like_ most of the girls at his old school – awestruck at his good looks and his apparent intellect. It made him dreadfully uncomfortable. Although Hadrian had always been garnering attention for his genius ever since Adalberto adopted him, he himself was never used to the people's apparent adoration.

Hermione didn't even spare Blaise any attention as she continued to grill Hadrian with questions, "So…" she started shyly, "What house do you think you'll be in, _Hadrian_? Personally, I think Gryffindor's the best, don't you think so, too, _Hadrian_?"

Caius was shaking with silent laughter. He gripped Blaise' shoulder for support, and Blaise, too busy wishing Hermione Granger would up and vanish, didn't even notice.

_To hell with it_, he thought as he felt his hold on one of his numerous masks slipping away from his fingers, "Hermione," he said sweetly, "Don't you have somewhere _else_ to be right now?"

Hermione seemed to snap out of the trance she was in and blushed _heavily_, "No…" she said reluctantly. Glancing at Neville, she seemed to realize how she was acting and her blush deepened – which didn't seem at all possible.

"I-I-I," she stammered, brown eyes wide and face red in utter mortification.

Standing abruptly, Hermione grabbed hold of Neville's hand and _ran _outside the compartment.

Hadrian sighed in relief. That was one less annoyance he had to deal with.

Caius laughed uproariously. He batted his blue eyes at his brother and _simpered_, "Oh, _Hadrian_! What House do you think you'll be in, _Hadrian_! That spell you used wasn't in the curriculum, _Hadrian_."

He scowled, "Shut it, brother."

Caius continued to chuckle.

Blaise seemed to have calmed down, but was still a bit miffed at the girl that _dared_ come onto Hadrian, "Good riddance!" he said, crossing his arms and pointing his nose in the air, "The nerve of that mu-muggleborn," he said, catching himself just in time and preventing another scolding from Hadrian.

Caius turned his mischievous blue eyes towards Blaise, "Jealous, were you?"

Blaise reared back in indignation, "I was _not!_"

Blaise was saved from further humiliation by a knock on their door, "Anything off the trolley, dears?" asked an elderly lady pushing a trolley filled with all kinds of sweets. Caius' eyes gleamed at the prospect of candy.

"I'll have one of everything!" declared Caius.

Blaise frowned, "I'll have six chocolate frogs, and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans."

Hadrian glanced at the trolley disinterestedly and continued reading his book.

After they had bought their fair share of candy, Blaise and Caius proceeded to converse about what they had bought. Inspecting every box of candy he had been given, Caius raised a rather small box and made a disgusted face, "_Cockroach Clusters_?" he said, revolted, "They make chocolate out of _cockroaches_?"

Blaise scoffed, "They're not really cockroaches, or course. They're made out of pure chocolate, but like the chocolate frog, the do _move_ like cockroaches."

Caius shuddered, absolutely sickened, "Gross."

Blaise smirked at him, "That's what you get for buying every single item on the trolley. There are even blood pops in your pile, and I can say for certain that, unlike the cockroach clusters, _those_ are made to taste like real blood."

Caius looked bewildered, "Why would they make _candy_ to taste like _blood_?"

Blaise shrugged, "Normally, those are for the vampires."

"_Vampires! Wicked!"_

Hadrian sighed.

"Anyway, Hadrian," said Blaise, "I suppose you already know what House you'll be in. I'll probably be in Slytherin," said Blaise, absentmindedly chewing on a bean, "But imagine being sorted into _Gryffindor, _or _worse,_ _Hufflepuff_! I think I'd leave," Blaise said pensively.

Hadrian took a moment to glance at his brother. Caius was, once again, looking worried. Frowning thoughtfully at Blaise, Caius asked the Pureblood a question, "What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" he asked defensively, "That's where the 'loyal and hardworking' go."

Blaise scoffed, "Sure they say that, but in reality, Hufflepuff's just where they toss the lot who don't fit into the other houses. They've never won the House Cup in _decades, _too."

Caius frowned in worry, "Hadrian," he said, his voice wobbly, "What if I get Sorted in Hufflepuff?"

Hadrian sighed and closed his book, "We've already talked about this, Caius."

"No, we haven't! We talked about the possibility that I'll be separated from you, not about being Sorted into Hufflepuff! Oh, what if I _do _get Sorted there, Mr. Ollivander _did_ say my wand's wood, Cedar, belonged to those who were loyal – that's a Hufflepuff trait!"

Blaise scoffed, "Yeah – I can definitely see it. Yellow and black _would_ suit you, Caius."

Caius looked alarmed, "Don't _say _that, Blaise! You'll jinx it!"

The door rattled and Hadrian spared it a glance. There was a blonde boy outside, with two other boys who looked positively _huge_ in comparison. Hadrian once again raised the book higher to hide his face.

The compartment door opened, and someone said, "Blaise! Why are you way over here? Pansy, Theodore, Daphne and I are in one of the compartments in the middle."

"Draco," he heard Blaise say warily. So they knew each other, Hadrian noted absently, re-reading a passage in his book about how to 'Call' his Familiar to him.

"Word on the train is that _Harry Potter's _in here somewhere," said Draco rather excitedly, "You think he's really here, Blaise?"

Blaise took two seconds too long to answer him, "I don't know…"

Hadrian could hear the amusement in Caius' voice when he spoke, "_Really? Harry Potter's_ on the train?" asked his brother with a touch of sarcasm in his tone, "I _wonder_ if that's true!"

A muscle in Hadrian's jaw twitched.

"And who are _you_?" asked Draco, voice dripping condescension.

"Me?" said Caius, "I'm Caius. Caius Denati, and you?" his brother asked affably.

Draco, however, seemed disinclined to be friendly towards his brother, "_Denati_? A muggle's surname if I ever heard one! What are you doing with the likes of _him_, Blaise?"

Hadrian gripped his book tighter in order to stave off his anger. This 'Draco' seemed full of the Pureblood Supremacy tripe he had read about, and looked down on his brother for being muggleborn. Breathing out through his mouth, Hadrian controlled his magic – which was swirling and reacting to his anger deliciously – it would not do to lose control here.

Blaise, Hadrian was disappointed to note, did not even bother to defend his brother, instead opting to explain the reason he was there in a rather defensive tone of voice.

"Whatever," said Draco imperiously, "Let's just leave," he said to Blaise.

"Draco," Blaise said, his tone reluctant, "I… erm… I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you."

"What? And leave you here with a bunch of _mudbloods_?"

Hadrian was getting sick of it, "Yes, Blaise," he said coldly from behind the tome, "Why don't you leave us _mudbloods_ alone?" he closed his book with an ominous 'snap' and scowled, his green eyes frigid, at Draco and Blaise.

Draco was, now that Hadrian could see him properly without his large book in the way, pale, pale blonde (a shade that would have been unnatural in the muggle world), with stark aristocratic features and light grey eyes. He stared at Hadrian in complete shock, his mouth slightly gaping, and his grey eyes wide.

Hadrian waited impatiently for the blonde brat to finish gawking at him and said, "Well? Aren't you supposed to be leaving?"

Flushing, Draco turned his nose away from Hadrian and stammered, "Y-You're just another mudblood, I bet! Don't talk so superiorly at your betters!"

Blaise looked ready to faint, "Hadrian, ignore him, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

Hadrian was _seething_. The air around him cackled in restrained electricity. Blaise watched him with trepidation in his eyes, and even Draco was starting to see that insulting him had not been the best idea.

He jumped off the chair and advanced menacingly at Draco. With a careless wave of his hand, the door to the carriage closed with a loud 'bang', and the two mammoth boys outside it stared confusedly inside. Separated from his body guards and cornered by an enraged Hadrian, all Draco could do was back away until he hit the closed carriage door.

"Listen here you bigot," Hadrian hissed, "My blood may not be as _pure _as yours, but when you insinuate that you are, by some miracle, _better_ than me, you better have what it takes to back it up."

Grey eyes were wide with fear as they stared at menacing green. Eyes the color of the Killing Curse glared down at him, trapping him in place.

Hissing in fury, his magic lashed out at the pathetic excuse for a wizard. Hadrian wanted him to _see_ – he was no one's doormat. He could feel the carefully controlled tendrils escape his skin and attack Draco like a battering ram. Without warning, Draco's knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, his eyes vacant and filled with fear.

The blonde whimpered when Hadrian's magic would not relent hammering against Draco's.

"Hadrian! Hadrian, _stop it!_" an arm grabbed a hold of him. Hadrian saw Blaise' fear-filled eyes and, sparing another cold glance at the felled pureblood, released him from his attack.

"Just so we're clear," Hadrian said, placing a foot on Draco's back, "Who is your better?"

"Y-You are…" the blonde rasped out.

"Good," Hadrian said coldly, turning his back on the fallen boy to go back to his seat, "Get out of my sight. You disgust me."

He watched detachedly as Draco stood on shaky legs and bolted from the small compartment. Turning frigid eyes to Blaise, he said, "Well? Aren't you going after him?"

Dark eyes were riveted on him, and instead of fear he saw ill-concealed awe, "I'm staying here, Hadrian."

Hadrian shrugged, "Suit yourself, Blaise," he said, grabbing hold of his book once more, "But just so you know, I don't particularly _care_ for that disgusting word your… _friend_ kept calling my brother. Utter that word in my presence again, and there _will_ be consequences."

"I understand, Hadrian," the olive-skinned boy said with reverence.

Hadrian shrugged again and resumed reading.

He did not know it, but by his display of power, he had just acquired the fealty of Blaise Zabini.

Unseen by Hadrian and Blaise, Caius watched where the blonde boy once stood and smirked, his blue eyes cold with promise.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express arrived in Hogsmead Station without any further visits from annoying students, and for which Hadrian was extremely grateful. He did not know how long his patience would last when forced to face another student.

All three of them changed thirty minutes before the train would pull up into Hogsmead, and Hadrian, by this time bored out of his mind, had started to do some spells he had learned – impressing Blaise and egging Caius into whining at him to teach him.

At last, the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop and the three of them stepped out of their compartment. Hadrian, heartbeat slightly faster than normal, followed the trail of black-clad students outside to the Station. There, a _mammoth_ of a man swung a large lamp and called for 'Firs' Years'. Following the large bellow, Hadrian, Caius, and Blaise stood in front of the large man with several other First Years.

"Right," said the large man, "That mus' be all o' them. C'mon, now," the giant said, "Form a line and follow me. I'm Hagrid, by the way. Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts School o' Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The giant man, Hagrid, led them to the edge of a lake where several boats were docked.

"No more 'an four to a boat," he bellowed.

Hadrian, Caius, and Blaise gingerly stepped onto the boat and seated themselves. They were followed by another boy with dark hair and an indeterminable eye color due to the darkness. He nodded nervously at them and introduced himself as Terry Boot.

With a shout of 'Onward' by Hagrid, the boats started to glide effortlessly across the lake.

"Wicked," Caius breathed, his eyes wide and amazed.

A few minutes later, the castle came into view. Hadrian's breath caught in his throat as he stared in awe at the magnificent castle. It was only illuminated by floating lights, and Hadrian reckoned that it was probably more breath-taking in the morning, but even at nighttime, its beauty still took his breath away.

Hogwarts, at last.

They docked at the shore and Caius was the first to step out, followed by a wide-eyed Terry. Blaise was next, and the Italian turned and held his arm out to Hadrian, who was just getting out himself. Hadrian spared a glance at the offered arm and grasped it.

They were led further along the pathway to the castle, finally stopping at large, heavy-looking double doors that opened soundlessly to reveal Professor McGonagall. The strict-looking witch led them inside a grand hall littered with moving paintings, the people inside the paintings pointing and gossiping as the first years were led further in.

Hadrian took this all in with barely constrained excitement.

He _loved_ magic.

"Listen, everyone," said Professor McGonagall, "In a few moments, you will all be led into the Great Hall to be Sorted. For those of you who do not know what this entails, it simply means that you are going to be divided into four Houses – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Your House will be permanent for the rest of your stay here at Hogwarts, and they will be like family. There is a competition for every House," she said, "House Points will be awarded for academic achievements or by playing in the school sport, and house points will be deducted for any rule breaking. Every year, the House with the most House Points wins the House Cup."

Hadrian, of course, knew all this already from the books he had read on Hogwarts. Still, he listened politely as Professor McGonagall finished briefly explaining the Sorting.

"Now, all of you wait here until I call you all inside the Great Hall to be Sorted."

Professor McGonagall left them and went inside another set of double doors that closed behind her.

The First Years were left to their own devices.

Caius grabbed hold of his hand, and, Hadrian noted, he was clammy and clearly nervous, "Hadrian," he said, "What if…"

Hadrian sighed, "We've already talked about this, Caius. Come hell or high water, no matter what House you'll be Sorted into, we'll still be brothers."

Caius stared at him, his blue eyes scared, "I don't want to be parted from you."

Hadrian squeezed his brother's hand in reassurance as Professor McGonagall once again entered the room they were in, "Follow me," she said, "Two lines, single file please."

They all scrambled to obey her order and took their first steps into the Great Hall.

His fellow First Years all gasped and stared wide-eyed at their surroundings. Floating candles and a ceiling that showed the sky above greeted them. Heart-pounding in glee and excitement, Hadrian realized he had never felt more tranquil before in his entire life.

He was home.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of a ratty, pointy hat that had seen better days. A rip, which Hadrian assumed was its mouth, opened, and a wizened voice emanated from the tatty hat.

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none),  
For I'm a Thinking Cap! _

Hadrian clapped along the rest, highly entertained with the Sorting Hat's song.

The Sorting was now to start.

Professor McGonagall unfurled a scroll and started calling out names. One by one, his fellow year mates were called. Finally,

"Denati, Caius!"

He gave his brother's hand one last squeeze.

Caius walked towards the Sorting Hat, looking downright nervous. He sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the Hat in his head, covering his eyes and his ears entirely.

Hadrian watched with detached amusement as his brother's lips moved to mouth 'Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin' over and over again.

Alas, it was not meant to be, "HUFFLEPUFF!" yelled the Hat.

When the Hat was removed from his brother's head, Hadrian could see that Caius looked absolutely devastated. He sighed as he watched his brother dejectedly trudge towards the house of black and yellow. Polite applause greeted his ears as the Hufflepuff table clapped for their newest member.

Behind him, Hadrian heard Blaise snicker.

The Sorting ploughed on.

Hadrian watched as Hermione and Neville both went to Gryffindor, while the brat Malfoy went into Slytherin after the hat barely touched his head.

And then, "Potter, Harry!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

Hadrian concealed a sigh as his 'real' name was called. The Great Hall suddenly went eerily silent before whispers broke out.

"Potter, she said?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"But he's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

He walked, head held high and back straight towards the Sorting Hat. Students and faculty alike craned their necks to get a better view of him. Once he stepped up the podium, the whispers became louder as they saw his face.

"He's gorgeous!"

"Oh, he's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up!"

"_Look_ at him!"

Hadrian paid them all no mind as he sat at the stool.

The students in the Great Hall held their breath as the Sorting Hat covered the greenest eyes they'd ever seen.

'_My, my! What a mind this is…' _said a voice inside his head.

Hadrian had not expected this. The Sorting Hat was _talking _to him?

'_You wield your wit like a weapon, dear child. Your intelligence is as sharp as a blade. Ravenclaw would be delighted to have you in her house… But wait… What's this? How curioussss…' _the Hat said, his voice going serpentine at the end.

"_What's curious_?" Hadrian asked the Hat.

'_Your magic, dear boy, is most potent… It is powerful, yesssss... You can feel it, can't you? It lurks beneath your skin, craving to be wielded like you would a weapon. How very, very curious… Yes… Ravenclaw would suit you fine, but I see in here that there is a House even better suited for you… Sly and cunning, and a thirst for Greatness so strong, you ache with it…'_

"_Put me where you think is best, then,_" thought Hadrian, uncaring about such scrupulous distinctions like Houses.

'_Oh, yessss… There is no doubt about it, you will find your way to greatness in-'_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hadrian removed the Hat to find that the Hall had gone absolutely still. His house, he saw, had its occupants gaping at him.

Frowning slightly in confusion, Hadrian walked towards the table decked in silver and green and sat beside the last person who had been Sorted there – a girl with short, black hair, dark eyes and a nose that slightly resembled a pug's. She scooted immediately away from him after he'd sat down.

The Hall was still deathly silent, and Hadrian could feel hundreds of eyes upon him. Heart pounding, he glanced at Professor McGonagall – who was staring at him in shock – and at the Head Table, where most of the faculty were wide-eyed and gaping at him.

Hadrian did not know what he did wrong, but he bore the stares with as much dignity as he could. Finally, after several more seconds, Professor McGonagall called the next name on the list with a shaky voice, and the Sorting continued.

Hadrian noticed that people were still _staring _at him, especially the people at his table. Some were glaring daggers at him (Hadrian wondered if it had anything to do with his 'Boy-Who-Lived' status), and others were still wide-eyed with shock, looking at him with fear in their eyes.

Frowning, he wondered if perhaps getting Sorted in Slytherin would be a bother.

He was still the object of uncomfortable stares when the last student was Sorted. Blaise sat beside him and offered him a very, very large smile.

"We're in the same House," Blaise said, looking mightily pleased, "I thought for _sure_ you would be in Ravenclaw."

Hadrian blinked and subtly looked at the reaction of his other Housemates. They had shifted their incredulous gazes to Blaise Zabini, as if he was defying the laws of nature by being perfectly amiable to Hadrian.

Hadrian wondered if he was.

The Headmaster stood and said a few words that greatly amused Hadrian – something about Forbidden Forests being forbidden and Third Floor corridors – and then the Feast started. The Great Hall was suddenly alive with sound and student's chatter. The food appeared on the empty plates around him and he started to pile up his plate, deciding to gauge the extent of Slytherin House' animosity toward him at another time.

"I feel slightly sorry for your brother, though," said Blaise as he chewed thoughtfully on his own food, "He looked really – upset, that he was Sorted in Hufflepuff."

Hadrian shrugged, "I'd already seen it coming. But separation will probably be good for him. He relies on me far too much."

As if this was a cue to start talking to him, one of his fellow first years started to ask him a question, "Is it true, then," said a girl with dark hair and brown eyes that sat opposite him, "That you're Harry Potter?"

Hadrian barely managed to prevent himself from rolling his eyes heavenward at the pointlessness of the question, "Well," he drawled, slightly irritated, "Who else am I supposed to be?"

"Just checking," said the girl, "We wouldn't want to be mistaken when we _do_ start to make your life miserable."

He blinked.

What?

Puzzled, Hadrian glanced at Blaise to see how he was taking this. After all, it wasn't everyday that someone declared they were going to make your life miserable. Blaise, however, merely looked amused, "Oh?" he asked challengingly, "Who's going to make Ha-Potter's life miserable, Millicent?"

The girl, Millicent, narrowed her eyes at Blaise and said haughtily, "Watch yourself, Blaise, you wouldn't want to be classified as a Blood Traitor, would you?"

Blaise scoffed, "And _you _really don't know who you're threatening."

The other, older, Slytherins around them were starting to take notice of their conversation. Hadrian observed that they were all staring at him and Blaise in a bloodthirsty manner.

Millicent glared, "Oh, I know just who I'm insulting, _Zabini_. Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, a filthy little _half-blood_ and a staunch supporter of _Blood Traitors_. He's nothing but dirt underneath my shoes, and everyone knows how much of a hoax it was that _he_ defeated the Dark Lord – the most powerful Wizard of his time."

Hadrian gallantly hid his smirk behind an apathetic mask.

Oh.

_Oh_.

The confusion and the discomfort he had felt when he had been Sorted into Slytherin evaporated at Millicent's scathing diatribe.

So _that's _why his Housemates were staring at him like Sharks that had just smelled a drop of blood.

Nearly all of them were supporters of the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who.

He inconspicuously observed his Housemates around him, and he realized.

This was a House that valued purity, power, and politics –in that order precisely. The moment he had let the Hat decide his fate for him, he had already been steeped in the madness that would be Slytherin House. He would have to watch everything – what he said, what he did, what he learned.

No wonder the Hall had gone silent when the Hat had declared him Slytherin.

They were wondering what he was doing in –figuratively speaking– the snake's pit.

He was surrounded by enemies.

Eating meticulously and not allowing a single emotion to show on his devastatingly beautiful face, he relished in the burst of excitement that bubbled beneath his skin.

Oh, what fun!

Blaise' knuckles had turned white as he gripped his utensils harder in his grasp, "Shut up, Millicent."

"You'll be targeted too, you know," Millicent said nastily, "It's best that you cut off your losses now, Blaise, before you get dragged down under. We're not going to go easy on you, _Potter_," she hissed, addressing him, "You'll be crying to your dead mudblood mummy before the month's over, just you wait. You'll wish you were never born for what you did to our Lord."

Despite himself, Hadrian felt a shiver of excitement run down his veins as he saw the bloodthirsty smirks his Housemates were sporting. Unbeknownst to him, Blaise had felt his magic and was immediately mollified.

He leaned back a bit and observed Millicent with lowered lashes, "What's your name?" he asked, his mask the epitome of politeness.

Millicent sneered at him, "You don't deserve it, _Half-Blood_."

"That's a rather long name," he commented nonchalantly, even as his blood boiled at the insults this pathetic excuse of a witch was hurling at him. Controlling his magic with an iron fist, he made sure none of it escaped his skin as he continued to observe the dead bitch walking.

A few seats away from Millicent, Hadrian spotted the pale-blonde boy sneering at him. It seems Draco had already forgotten the lesson he had taught him when he saw that there were people as stupid as he was who agreed with his views on Blood Purity.

He would just have to prove them all wrong, wouldn't he?

_He looked forward to it_.

Millicent scoffed, "Petty words from a dead man walking," she said, sneering, "Just you wait, _Potter_, we'll show you just how _welcome _the Boy-Who-Lived is in Slytherin."

He shrugged, "I look forward to it," and then he grinned savagely.

Millicent seemed taken aback at his boldness.

Beside him, Blaise grinned in excitement –and even a little fear. He didn't know what Hadrian was fully capable of, but neither did he know what the higher years were capable of doing, as well. Still, Hadrian's confidence – which bordered on cockiness – was reassuring.

The feast continued in relative silence after that. Blaise continued to talk to him as if Millicent hadn't just threatened him. This seemed to enrage the dark-haired girl as Hadrian and Blaise continued to chat as if all was well with the world.

Finally, as the last bit of desert disappeared from the long tables, Headmaster Dumbledore once again stood from his perch at the center of the Head Table and prompted everyone to sing the school song.

Hadrian winced from the truly dreadful sounds his schoolmates were making. Finally, when the last two singers (two redheads who had wisely decided to sing the school song in a slow, funeral march) had finished, the Prefects all called out for the first years to follow them to their accommodations.

During their march towards the Dungeons (as that was where the Slytherin House was apparently located), his fellow first years gave him a wide berth. Blaise made up for this by walking as closely as he could possible next to Hadrian.

The Dungeons were tricky to navigate, but Hadrian wasn't a genius for nothing. He memorized every turn they made and was confident he would be able to get back to the Great Hall by breakfast tomorrow.

Then they reached a dead end.

One of the Prefects turned to them and said, "This is the entrance to the common room. In order to gain access, you must recite the password. The password changes every first of the month, so you better memorize those. _Never_ tell the password to anyone who is not of Slytherin House, or there _will_ be serious repercussions. This month's password is _Lilium_."

The wall moved, and Hadrian had his first glimpse of the Slytherin Common Room.

The room was decked in green and silver, with tasteful black couches and armchairs scattered about the room. Two staircases leading underground faced each other in either ends of the room, and the largest fireplace he had ever seen was situated on one wall. A large, glass window opposite the fireplace showed an underwater village if you squinted, and what looked like _mermaids_ swum about through the glass pane.

Hadrian looked around him and felt his heart swell in what he realized was belonging.

Despite what that witch (and he means the _other _connotation of the word) Millicent had said, he was _home_.

Come hell or high water, Hadrian – or Harry James Potter – was a Slytherin.

The Prefects led them further inside and told them all to sit on the couches as the older students walked inside the common room.

"Welcome, first years, to Slytherin," the Prefect said, her coldly beautiful face softening into a smile as she greeted the new students before frosting over once again, "I am Gemma Farley, one of your fifth year Slytherin Prefects.

"There are six prefects in every house: three boys and three girls. You can identify us by the badges we wear in lieu of our Hogwarts Crest," she said, motioning to the badge she wore on her left upper chest, "There is also one Head Boy and one Head Girl every year appointed by the Professors. This year, our Head Boy is our very own Edward Ellington," said Farley, motioning to a tall, blonde boy standing next to the fireplace, "And our Head Girl is Jennifer Skye from Ravenclaw.

"Now, every year, our Head of House, Professor Severus Snape, will orient you first years on proper conduct. Everyone," the Prefect said, addressing the gathered older Slytherin students, "Must follow the rules."

"That is correct," said a rather nasal voice from the entrance. Hadrian turned and saw one of the members of the faculty from the Head Table, the one dressed in black, enter the common room with his robes billowing behind him. He had a rather deadly (if a bit dramatic) air about him, with shoulder-length, greasy black hair and beady black eyes. His skin was pale, his nose long and crooked (as if he had broken it once before), and his lips were severe and thin.

The black-clad professor stopped in front of the seated first years and observed every one of them with a critical eye. He seemed to spend a longer time observing Hadrian before his lips curled in an ugly sneer.

"Welcome to Slytherin," the professor said. His voice was soft yet deadly, "I am your Head of House, Severus Snape. I am also the resident Potions Master."

Hadrian had to admire the way the man talked. He was intimidating and graceful at the same time, with an air like a panther on its haunches – or a cobra about to strike.

"Now that you have been Sorted into Slytherin," he said, beady black eyes roaming the faces of the first years, "You are to conduct yourself in a manner worthy of your House. I have several rules in addition to the school rules that _everyone_," his eyes darted to Hadrian, singling him out, "Must follow."

He started pacing in front of them, "The first rule is this: There will be no squabbling with your Housemates… outside of the common room. We must present a united front to the rest of the Houses, prejudiced as they already are against us. So leave your petty feuds inside the walls of the Slytherin common room, or _else_."

"The next rule is: When you are struggling with your academic load, _ask for help_. There are plenty of higher years who have already been instructed to tutor students in their free time. So when you are in doubt, go to a prefect and _ask_ if anyone is free to tutor you. Slytherin is a House of the sly and the cunning. Not the House of the daft and the prideful. Anything below a grade of Acceptable is a disgrace to this House."

"And the third rule…"

At this, the Potions Master stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Hadrian, a few steps away. He could feel the malicious stares boring holes into him, wishing him harm and ill-intent.

"The third rule… pertains to our new… _celebrity_," he said, spitting out the word as if it were something you would find at the bottom of your shoe. Hadrian felt Blaise tense beside him and most of his Housemates grin violently at him.

"To whoever your… allegiance… may lie…" Severus Snape said, his voice soft yet carrying throughout the room. His eyes were trailed on Hadrian, yet he was addressing everyone in the room.

"Do not forget that not everyone shares the same views," said the Professor, "You never know that your words may be… _incriminating_…"

The professor snapped his gave away from Hadrian and he looked around the room in warning, "Heed this counsel: The sun has not yet set."

He stepped back, away from Hadrian, and sent him a nasty smile, "One last rule," he said, black eyes glittering cruelly down at the Boy-Who-Lived as he addressed the room at large, "Don't leave any evidence."

And with that, he stalked out of the common room. The entrance closed with an ominous sound.

Severus Snape has just as good as told his Snakes they were free to do whatever they liked to Hadrian.

Every eye in the room was suddenly on him, and slow, feral grins stretched across their faces. No one had moved yet, opting to grin mercilessly at the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone stared at him like predator to a prey.

They did not know it was the other way around.

Heart pounding in his chest, Hadrian inconspicuously felt every aura in the room, gauging their power and comparing it to his own.

None were _nearly_ as strong or as vast as his magical core.

He felt Blaise trembling beside him. Despite the boy's earlier failing – calling his brother a mudblood – Hadrian now knew that Blaise was, somehow, loyal to him. What he did to earn such loyalty in the face of adversity, he did not know. All he knew was that Blaise was now someone he could trust, and someone he had to protect. It would not do, after all, for someone who supported him so staunchly to be hurt for something as stupid as a grudge against his own person.

He stood from his seat slowly and stepped in front of Blaise, shielding him. His fellow first years all stood as well, making a beeline towards the opposite end of the room, their faces showing various degrees of glee for Hadrian's situation. He saw that Millicent and Draco Malfoy looked particularly vindictive.

He felt Blaise stand behind him and grab the back of his robe. The Italian boy's hands, shaking, gripped his robe in an iron fist.

The Head Boy, Edward Ellington, stepped forward; pushing against the pillar he was leaning on to stalk towards Hadrian. It seemed he was the unofficial leader of this little party, or perhaps, as the one with the most power, he was naturally placed on top, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the Boy-Who-Lived. How does it feel, _Potter_, to be celebrated for the simple act of _not dying_?"

The Slytherins laughed mockingly.

Hadrian was not amused. He tilted his head, wondering if 'Ellington' was one of the people who had been sent to Azkaban, the maximum security Wizarding prison, following the Dark Lord's death. His eidetic memory supplied him with the list of 'Death Eaters', the Dark Lord's followers, who had been convicted to life imprisonment in Azkaban, and found that the name Ellington was not on the list.

"It feels pretty good," said Hadrian, the perfect picture of politeness, "It is quite nice to be alive."

"Not for longer, if I have any say about it, you filthy, _Half-Blood, Blood Traitor_," said Ellington, his handsome face twisting into an ugly sneer, "You will _pay _for what you did to our Lord."

Hadrian tilted his head, looking up at the Head Boy, "Yes…" he said, his visage twisting dramatically into a scathing sneer, marring his ethereally beautiful features, "Your… Master. Defeated by a babe not more than two years old, I've read that he's been reduced to nothing but ash. Tell me," he said to the increasingly furious Seventh Year, "What does it feel like, knowing your _Master_ fell to his own curse, to his own _folly?_"

"_How dare you, _you little Half-Blood," seethed Ellington, "You are nothing but grime beneath my boots, the product of a dirty _mudblood _whore and a _Blood Traitor_ father. We'll teach you a little lesson on how to talk to your betters…" Ellington motioned, and the three male prefects stepped forward with savage grins on their faces, wands aloft. Hadrian could feel their magic, less potent than his own, writhing beneath their skin, excited to break free and inflict harm.

No one was standing up for him, and every single Slytherin watching had varying degrees of bloodthirsty grins on their faces.

Hadrian hid one of his own, his magic bubbling deliciously under his skin.

The Hat, apparently, had _known_.

_Oh, _he thought viciously, shedding every mask he had been wearing in an effort to hide his true nature as the four older boys advanced toward him.

_I'm right where I belong._

* * *

A/N: Hello all! Welcome to another installment of _Magicke Moste Potente_!

_Hogwarts_, _At Last_ was very fun to write, and I hope you guys had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. The length, however, was _killing me_. Still, I've made it a standard to write at least 10K words per chapter, and I'm not going to balk at my self-imposed goal.

Still, this chapter felt incomplete to me. I felt like it had too many plot holes. I just felt like it was lacking _something._ Please tell me what you thought about it - and kindly point out the holes you saw in the story._  
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Many, many thanks to **vernieklein **for volunteering to Beta this chapter! I cannot thank her enough for her valuable input!

Oh! And the Sorting Hat's song was quoted directly from the first Harry Potter book.

Thank you all for your lovely, lovely reviews, alerts and faves! I adore you all for the continued support!

There were some people who reviewed that didn't log in, and I hadn't the pleasure of being able to reply to them. They were lovely reviews, too, which is a complete shame! If you would like me to reply to your review, please log in so I can PM you! I _do_ reply to some of the reviews, especially if they have questions and interesting observations, so do log in so that I can reply.

I don't really like replying to a review in an A/N. It makes it all seem impersonal and –public– somehow.

Please, feel free to comment on what you would like to happen – it's always interesting to hear what other people can cook up in their heads. The more twisted the head, the better! I'm always open to what you suggest!

Reviews are love!


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